


Enigma Variations

by Coriaria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Bletchley Park, Cryptography, Death of parent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalised Homophobia, M/M, Mystery, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, World War II, but there's smut as well, period-typical attitudes to disability, sorry it's pretty bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 67,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriaria/pseuds/Coriaria
Summary: When Sirius Black is unmasked as a spy, it seems that nearly everyone in Bletchley Park knew all along that something wasn't right about him. But Lily Evans thinks otherwise. She knows that if Black really was a spy, he'd have done it properly, and would have never been caught. Remus Lupin doesn't believe Sirius is a spy either. According to the landlady, she found the stolen ciphers in his room between the pages of a magazine filled with photos of half-naked women. And Remus knows that such a magazine would hold no interest for Sirius. It's not much to go on, but both Remus and Lily are determined to get to the truth. A man's life depends upon it.
Relationships: Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 198
Kudos: 246





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All recognisable characters are the property of JKR etc. The setting for this fic was inspired by the novel "Enigma" by Robert Harris. The title is from the work by Edward Elgar "Variations on an original theme, opus 36, known as the Enigma Variations.

November 1942

The problem with Sirius Black being a spy, thought Lily Evans as she turned into the bitter head wind, was that he was just too obvious. She leaned forward and lifted herself up from the bicycle seat to get more strength behind her pedalling and keep up her speed. It wasn’t a particularly ladylike way to ride a bike, but Lily wasn’t exactly a lady.

She began listing the supposed arguments for Black clearly being a spy, as explained to her by her colleagues at Bletchley Park. First, there was his supposedly Italian mother, the source of his slightly disreputable good looks. Other versions of the story gave him an Italian grandmother, or possibly even his great-grandmother. While perhaps one of these facts was true, Lily also knew that Italian wasn’t on the fairly extensive list of languages he could speak. It was pretty flimsy as a piece of evidence, but nonetheless his ancestry was a mark against his name.

The other side of Black’s family counted against him as well. His father was a well-known MP, and while his Party had quietly attempted to usher him off to the most distant of the back benches, his ill-considered comments about the Nazis had not been forgotten. Orion Black’s statements that “the Germans have got the right idea about the Jewish problem” and “that Hitler fellow is a leader with a proper backbone” were frequently quoted over the tea cups at Bletchley as damning evidence of the son’s duplicity.

Lily could not remember Black himself ever making any such statement herself. As she turned the corner and the wind whipped her hair into her face for a moment, she tried to think of any statement he had made which was remotely supportive of Hitler or antisemitic. He was certainly full of cutting insults, but she could remember none of them ever referring to a person’s race.

The third point, and the only one which had any merit in Lily’s opinion, was the matter of money. Black was undoubtedly an extravagant man, and she could easily believe he was living beyond his means. He wore expensive clothes and cologne, could always procure whatever strictly rationed food his friends, acquaintances, women he was attempting to charm and even his landlady were hankering after, and rode around on his Vincent Series A Rapide. Not that Lily had the faintest idea about motorbikes, but anybody who spent more than a few minutes in Black’s company knew all about his Vincent. He never shut up about the damned thing and rode around the village and surrounding countryside day and night as if there was no such thing as petrol rationing.

He obviously came from a wealthy family, but there were rumours that he was in some sort of trouble with them and had been cut off from his allowance, possibly even disinherited. Lily heard a lot of idle gossip and was sure that much of it was rubbish, but she’d heard that particular rumour from someone she considered reliable.

The problem with that piece of evidence, Lily thought as she reached the gates of the Park, was that it went against points one and two. If he didn’t get on with his family, then surely it was unreasonable to assume he shared their political views. And yet, once the news spread around Bletchley Park that Black had been arrested, it seemed that every second person Lily spoke to considered it no surprise to them that he turned out to be a spy. They would quote the three points, along with other damning pieces of evidence such as ‘I never liked him’, ‘I always knew there was something off about him’ and ‘you can never trust a man who wears his hair too long’. Thus was Sirius Black condemned.

Lily genuinely had never liked Black. She could, in fact, wax lyrical on the things she thought were wrong with the man – his arrogance, his loudness, his temper, the way he would fawn over those he wanted to impress and bully those he didn’t. As far as she was concerned, he was an obnoxious, spoiled, selfish brat. But she was quite sure that none of it pointed to him being a spy.

Lily dismounted from her bike and began pushing it towards hut 6. It was starting to rain and she was grateful that she was nearly there. She left the bike leaning against the side of the hut and walked inside, unbuttoning her coat and removing her scarf and gloves. The hut was cold, and she might put them on again later, but for now she was warm with the exercise.

“Ah, it’s the lovely Miss Evans.”

“Go away, Potter.”

A woman like Lily should never speak to a man like James Fleamont Potter in such a manner, but after well over a year of his hopeless attempts to court her and her equally hopeless attempts to put him off, she had realised she could get away with saying almost anything to him. She was starting to enjoy seeing just how far she could push him.

“My dear Miss Evans, how the sweet sound of your voice brings music to my day.”

It was comments like that which made her wonder whether he was genuine or mocking her. Lily’s northern accent, acquired from the streets of Cokeworth where her father was a manager at the mill, was considered quite hilarious by the polished debutantes who worked in the quiet of the Registration Room. Lily worked in the busy, noisy decoding room, with a group of girls who were more middle class and less condescending but, even there, her accent set her apart. She spoke like the children she had grown up with, boys and girls whose fathers worked in the mill if they were lucky or, if not, didn’t work at all.

Lily rolled her eyes and walked past him, her mind still thinking of Potter’s friend, Mr Black. Potter would agree with her that Black was an unlikely spy. He’d made his opinion clear when Black was arrested, but it hadn’t held much sway, given that the pair were best friends. Lily didn’t think there was much point in taking her concerns to Potter. For a mathematician, he was remarkably illogical, really only intelligent when it came to tasks like code-breaking. She needed someone who could consider the evidence, not just their personal loyalties.

As she settled down to her desk in the decoding room, she put Black out of her mind. She had a stack of messages to test and should could not afford any errors. So, for the next few hours, she gave her whole attention to the strings of letters, typing them into the Typex machine and checking for recognisable German in the resulting text. She knew that a lot of the women hated the decoding room, which was dimly lit and cold as well as being noisy, but Lily didn’t mind. This was a far more worthwhile use of her typing skills that being the secretary to some man who patronised her and tried to grab her bottom as she passed. Potter might declare his undying love at every chance, but he would not stand for any man laying a finger on the women in his hut.

Lily only thought of Black again when she went to get a cup of tea with Mary and Marlene, known as the Scottish twins as their surnames were MacDonald and McKinnon, although neither had ever been to Scotland. Another young man apparently believe himself in love with Mary, and Marlene was responding with wide-eyed disbelief at his attempts to win her over. Lily passed on Potters comment about her voice bringing music to her day, then tuned out the rest of the conversation. She was frustrated by the trivia which seemed to be the focus of their lives, as if the most exciting thing that they could ever imagine was their wedding day.

And she couldn’t stop thinking about Black. It troubled her, to have her thoughts so occupied by a man she disliked, but she just couldn’t believe that he was a spy.

The most compelling fact in Black’s favour, she thought, was that if Sirius Black was going to be a spy, he’d have done it properly. He wouldn’t have made himself obvious and got caught with stolen papers tucked into the pages of a disreputable men’s magazine. He’d have made sure that he was utterly above suspicion and would have got away with it for years.

Black was not like a lot of the other men at Bletchley who tended to be good at only one thing. He was not, for example, like Potter, who could do remarkable feats with codes and cribs and ciphers, but couldn’t organise himself to comb his hair or match his socks. Black was good at everything he turned his hand to. He’d initially studied languages at Cambridge, but then decided that the mathematics his friends Potter and Pettigrew were studying seemed more interesting, so he had switched. He had turned out to be an excellent cryptanalyst and had an encyclopedic knowledge of Luftwaffe call signs. He also played the piano and had memorised a wide selection of popular songs, accompanying any young man or woman who fancied themselves to have a decent singing voice.

So Lily was quite sure that Black would have been just as good a spy as he was cryptanalyst, accompanist, conversationalist and everything else that he did.

She looked around Hut 2, where various groups of men and women were drinking their late night tea in an effort to keep themselves awake, and wondered who she could take her suspicions about Black to. The obvious choice was Severus Snape, her friend since childhood,, but he loathed Black and she doubted his impartiality as a result. Besides, they’d grown apart since he’d been working up at the main house, with Riddle and his group who were responsible for Bletchley security. It appeared to her that Severus, now he had a posh accent and posh friends from his posh school, considered himself better than Lily. He’d gone off to that school with little more than his scholarship and the clothes he was wearing, while Lily, from a nice family and just as bright at school, had studied typing and worked for the odious Mr Fudge until Severus had got her the job at Bletchley. 

Hearing Potter’s laugh across the room, she looked across at his table and wondered whether there was anyone else among his and Black’s friends that she could talk to. She ruled out Pettigrew immediately. She’d long ago figured out that his work wasn’t worth the paper it was scrawled on. It was full of errors and generally of little use, and she wondered how he’d ever got a degree at all. The Prewitt brothers, twins who finished each others’ sentences and made indiscreet comments about girls they were seeing, were also out, since anything told to one was immediately told to the other, as well as to their sister who would then tell half the Park.

The one that Lily’s mind kept coming back to was Remus Lupin. She didn’t know much about him, apart from the obvious – he didn’t say much and he’d been badly injured in the Blitz. His face was a mess of scars and he walked with crutches. She could see him now, crutches leaning against the side of the table as he sat talking to Dorcas Meadowes, one of the few women who worked as a cryptanalyst. Dorcas was a quiet girl who never bothered to wear makeup or do anything with her hair, but she was smiling as she talked to Lupin.

Most of the girls avoided Lupin, as he didn’t look like much of a prospect, with his shabby clothes and injuries, but Marlene and Mary had both been out with him on occasion, generally to concerts but also to the pictures. Although neither had any particular fancy for him, both had commented that he had good manners and was very cultured, able to quote Rupert Brooke and Wilfred Owen along with Shakespeare, and with a great knowledge of English music.

There was one thing holding Lily back. She’d made a comment about him to Severus, and he’d warned her against him. He’s not what he seems, he’d said, you should steer well clear. And Lily had, until now. After all, Severus was keeping company with Tom Riddle, Lucius Malfoy and Evan Rosier, among others. He was hardly in a position to pass judgement on who Lily should be talking to.

As she left her cup on the tray and returned to the noise of the decoding room, Lily’s mind was made up. Lupin – she would talk to Lupin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 1942. Remus arrives at Bletchley.

II.  
February 1942.

Remus Lupin stood on the platform, leaning on his crutches and with his suitcase sitting in front of him. The suitcase made him feel particularly useless – he was effectively stuck standing beside it until someone came to help him. He knew a man was coming to pick him up from the train, but he wasn’t quite sure when, or where he was supposed to meet him. So he stood and waited, knowing that he was fairly conspicuous and that although the station was busy, it was nothing like the stations in London.

“Lupin? Remus Lupin?”

Remus turned his head to see a man in a somewhat crumpled suit standing near him. He nodded in response.

“Good to meet you. I’m Dearborn.”

The man, Dearborn, offered his hand, then stood with it extended awkwardly while Lupin balanced his right crutch against his hip. He was finally able to shake Dearborn’s hand, but managed to lose control of the crutch, which clattered to the ground. Dearborn rushed to pick it up and quickly shoved it back at him as if he was afraid Remus would tumble to the ground without it.

“Sorry,” Remus said. “Awfully clumsy of me.”

“No, no, it’s fine. My fault, really. Here, let me take your case. The car’s just outside the station. Can you walk alright? I mean… well…”

Dearborn went red and Remus resisted the urge to sigh and roll his eyes. Dearborn was going to be one of the types that were overly solicitous but were too embarrassed to actually acknowledge his infirmity in any way. Occasionally they could be amusing, and Remus would laugh about them with one of his friends, but most often he found them annoying.

Remus began to head for the stairs, leaving Dearborn to pick up his case. He overtook Remus before he’d managed three stairs then insisted on keeping pace with him. It made Remus feel even more obvious than if he’d been negotiating the stairs on his own. Still, there was nothing to be done about it. Railway stations had stairs. At least he wouldn’t be commuting daily on the tube as he’d done in the past.

The car, parked just outside, looked official. There weren’t too many private vehicles in regular use and those that were weren’t as large and shiny as this one. Remus felt too grubby to even touch the handle.

“See, you know you’re important when the General sends his car for you.”

Remus looked up at Dearborn in surprise.

“Uh… Important? I’m not… I don’t…”

In all honesty, he wasn’t even sure why he was at Bletchley. He’d been recovering in hospital, when two men, not military types at all, had approached him to ask if he’d be willing to do more for the war effort. They’d been cagey about what they wanted him to do, and he’d wondered if they were genuine. But the papers they had brought him to sign had seemed real enough, and they’d known the kinds of details that only the government would have known.

Once he’d signed the _Official Secrets Act_ , he’d simply been given the instruction to take the train to Bletchley on discharge from hospital, and that he would be picked up when he arrived.

“Oh, I say, you haven’t been briefed yet, of course. I’m to take you to your rooms now, and drop off your things. Then up to BP immediately for a briefing with Dumbles.”

Dearborn paused, looking again as if he was afraid that Remus would collapse.

“If that’s alright? If you aren’t to tired from the journey?”

“That’s fine. I’m fine.”

Of course, Remus would have to be almost dead on his feet before he’d admit otherwise. In fact, he was exhausted. His shoulders and back were aching and his legs felt so weak they were trembling. But he was used to it, and he really wanted to know why he was at Bletchley.

Once they were in the car and moving, Remus spoke again.

“You mentioned someone called… Dumbles. Who is that?”

“Oh, don’t tell him I called him that, will you? General Albus Dumbledore, in charge of BP. He’s taken an interest in you, he has. Going to brief you himself. Doesn’t do that for everyone.”

“Oh, alright.”

Dumbledore. Not a common name, Remus thought. He had to be related to Aberforth, the old orderly from the hospital who used to talk to Remus a lot. Remus was in the hospital a long time and bored a lot of the time. Aberforth used to collect old newspapers so that Remus could do the crosswords, which he loved. He’d later asked Remus if he played chess, and when he found out that he did, had brought in his own set. They’d played most afternoons after that, until only yesterday, which was Remus’s last full day in hospital.

He was a shrewd old man, Remus knew, full of obscure knowledge. He reminded Remus of Mr Moody – they were a similar age and had both been in the trenches during the Great War. Remus wondered whether Aberforth had recommended him in some way. Otherwise it did seem odd that Remus should end up employed in some sort of secret communications work under a general of the same name.

Dearborn parked the car in front of a row of houses with their front doors opening directly onto the street. It looked as if the houses had at least two, or in some cases three, levels, which meant stairs – probably narrow, steep stairs that would be difficult to navigate with crutches. It wouldn’t be impossible though. He would just annoy the other residents by being slow.

“We’re here,” Dearborn said. “A Mrs Umbridge, I believe, owns the property.”

He hovered as Remus got himself out of the car, then carried his case up to the door. They were let in by a woman who smiled insincerely as they entered, but scowled as soon as she got a good look at Remus.

“They didn’t tell me you were a cripple. I’m not running a convalescent home. You’ve got the attic room.”

Dearborn looked like he was about to intervene, but Remus managed to speak first. It would help to argue with this woman, he knew.

“I’m sure I will be fine,” Remus replied, although he wasn’t sure. He could manage stairs, but would struggle if they were narrow or steep.

“What’s going on, Dolly?”

Remus jumped slightly at the voice behind him. He turned his head to find himself looking into a pair of grey eyes.

“Oh, hello, you must be taking Longbottom’s old room.

The grey eyes, surrounded by one of the most beautiful faces Remus had ever seen, looked him slowly up and down.

“I say, you’re going to find those stairs a frightful nuisance, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Remus said, realising that he was starting to sound defensive. “I’m quite used to stairs.”

“Are you recovering or is this permanent, then?” the man asked.

Remus paused before responding. He found the man’s frank way of talking quite unnerving, especially when he was so good-looking. The beautiful face was framed by dark hair, unfashionably long and the man was wearing clothes which looked like they cost more than everything Remus owned. Everything about the man spoke of class, wealth and influence, while Remus was shabby, scarred and nobody.

When Remus didn’t respond immediately, the man suddenly put out his hand.

“Gosh, jolly rude of me. I’m Sirius Black, fellow resident of this delightful establishment. I’m delighted to meet you – it’s been awfully quiet since Frank… well, since he left.”

Remus noticed Mrs Umbridge make a sour face. She evidently disapproved of Longbottom in some way.

“So, what’s the story with the crutches and all that?”

He was persistent, Remus gave him that.

“The Blitz,” Remus replied.

That should be enough to satisfy them – during those awful days tens of thousands had been killed or injured. Remus didn’t care to share more of the story.

“I’ll bet you wish you’d joined up,” Mrs Umbridge said.

Remus frowned slightly, wondering what the woman was on about. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t particularly like what she’d have to say.

“Why do you say that?” Remus asked, keeping his voice very measured.

“Well, better to be killed or injured fighting for king and country than cowering like a dog in some bomb shelter.”

Black’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, while Dearborn looked as if he might choke.

“I can’t say I’d thought of that, Mrs Umbridge. You do make an interesting point.”

She looked rather disappointed to find that Remus wasn’t offended by her comment, and had turned away before Black spoke again.

“You know, it would be much easier if you took my room, Lupin. I’m on the first floor, same as the bathroom. I don’t mind swapping.”

Before Remus could politely refuse, Mrs Umbridge spoke.

“I very much doubt Mr Lupin could afford your room, Mr Black.”

She looked Remus up and down, no doubt taking in his frequently mended suit, the only one he owned, a cast-off from his employer.

“Oh, we don’t need to fuss over a piffling matter like that. Keep charging us the same and we’ll just swap.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Remus said, but Black had already grabbed his case and was bounding up the stairs.

Remus, who had never in his life considered the matter of money _piffling_ , followed him, slowly dragging his broken body up the stairs to the first floor. One door was open, so Remus went in, to find Black emptying drawers into an elegant leather case.

“Sorry about the mess, old thing. Never seems to stay tidy, for some reason. Just as bad at school.”

“Look, this is very kind of you, but I really don’t think it’s necessary.”

Black stopped for a moment and walked across to stand beside him. He appeared to be studying Remus quite intently.

“You look positively done in after walking up one floor, old thing. And those are the good stairs. The next lot are much worse. The ceiling’s bloody low, no good at all if you’re tall… used to drive Frank insane… well, poor choice of words, I suppose, but…”

“What happened? To the previous resident. Frank?”

“He… well he had a breakdown, I suppose. Long hours, awful food, not enough sleep, worrying over everything, it gets to some people. He’s not the first, won’t be the last, either.”

“Oh.”

Black returned to gathering his possessions, filling one suitcase and starting on the next. Remus was very conscious that he had everything he owned in his rather small case.

“I say, are you fond of music?”

He gestured to a grammophone which sat open on the dresser. There was a pile of records stacked beside it, the only thing apart from the bookshelf which appeared tidy in the whole room. Remus glanced at the one on top.

“Oh, Elgar.”

“You like him?”

“Some,” Remus said. “My old… schoolmaster was a music lover. Often used to play records for us. He was a great admirer of Elgar. Well, any British composer. I admit though, I did find Pomp and Circumstance rather…”

“Pompous?”

Remus nodded.

“What about his Enigma variations?” Black asked.

“Oh, yes, now I loved those.”

“I’ve always said that should be our song, you know, up at BP. But they didn’t take that very well.”

Remus was starting to lose track of what Black was saying and his confusion must have shown.

“Oh, that’s right, old boy. You’re new. Haven’t been briefed yet, have you? Well, never mind. Listen to this.”

Black had given up on packing and was pulling out a record.

“It’s quite something, you know. Enigma variation 10, but for choir. I used to be a choirboy, you know.”

Black clasped his hands together and sang the words _Pie Jesu Domine_ in a surprisingly good falsetto.

“Those were the days. All dressed up in our robes, singing like we were perfect little angels, then sneaking off afterwards to smoke at the back of the cemetery. Little demons we were, really,” he said, before dropping the needle down.

All packing forgotten, he sat down on the bed and closed his eyes. Remus watched him as the opening voices came in, soft and low, and he could almost imagine perpetual light shining on Black’s face. He truly did look angelic then, although he was clearly anything but.

“You weren’t cowering like a dog in the Blitz, were you?”

Remus realised that he was still staring at Black, who had opened his eyes and was looking at him with open curiosity.

“I beg your pardon?”

“When Umbridge said it would have been better to be injured fighting than cowering like a dog in the Blitz, you… well, if you had been cowering like a dog, I’d have expected you to have looked ashamed.”

Remus shrugged.

“Perhaps I have no conscience.”

Sirius laughed at that.

“No, no, you might play your cards close, old boy, but you strike me as a decent sort of fellow. You’d be ashamed alright. But you were quite the opposite. You held your head up, looked her in the eye. You were proud of what you did in the Blitz, proud of whatever you were doing when you were injured.”

Remus didn’t answer for a moment, listening as the sopranos reached a high note, just floating for a moment, then dropping back. Black was right, Remus hadn’t spent the Blitz hiding in bomb shelters, and he wasn’t ashamed. But that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. He wasn’t that kind of man.

“I’m right, aren’t I, Lupin.”

Remus nodded. He was going to have to watch out. Sirius Black was observant and clever, the kind of man who could learn your secrets, and Remus had many of them. He wavered for a moment, wondering whether it was better to tell Black nothing, everything, or something in between.

“I was in an ambulance. A bomb hit a nearby building and debris landed on us.”

Black held his gaze, those cool grey eyes never moving.

“Did something happen to you? Were you a patient?”

Remus paused a moment longer. He was embarrassed to admit it, but he wanted to tell this man the truth. He very much wanted Sirius Black to think well of him.

“Driving it. We’d pulled a woman and child from a bombed house. Taking them to hospital.”

Black grinned.

“See, I knew it. I knew you’d have been doing something heroic.”

“It wasn’t heroic. We all did our bit, that’s all.”

Black looked like he was going to ask something else, but stopped. Remus was relieved. He didn’t want to remember that night. He had a lot of dark memories, but lying in agony in the destroyed ambulance with the bodies of four people was painfully recent.

“My brother was a pilot, you know. He’d have been up in the skies when you were driving those ambulances.”

Remus noted the use of the past tense.

“What happened to him?”

“Shot down. Whole crate went up in flames. Never found any bodies.”

“I’m sorry.”

Black shook his head.

“We weren’t close. The whole family’s a bit… complicated.”

Remus wasn’t sure what to say in response. He could feel the depth of pain in that simple phrase.

“What about you?” Black continued, his voice brighter. “Brothers? Sisters? Half a dozen illegitimate children left behind you?”

Remus shook his head.

“No, no, nothing like that… My… my family’s a bit complicated too.”

Black looked him in the eye at that, and an understanding passed between them. Family was not a safe topic for either of them, and no more would be asked. In that moment of silence the closing word of the piece – _Requiem_ – faded away and the needle skipped. Black jumped up to stop it scratching.  


“Ah, excuse me, but we do need to be moving, get you up to BP for your briefing.”

Theying both turned to see Dearborn standing at the entrance to the room.

“Oh, sorry, old boy, I got completely distracted. Tell you what, leave your case here and I’ll get my things out of your way. How about I leave you the grammophone though? Have a listen, got a lovely piece by an American of all things, fellow named Barber. As long as you don’t mind if I pop in occasionally when I want to listen to something.”

“Look, Mr Black, this is–“

“Sirius, do call me Sirius.”

“Well, Sirius, this is just too generous of you. Really, I don’t mind. I’d be fine with–“

“I won’t hear of it. You agree, don’t you Caradoc? Remus is far better to have my room?”

Remus stood, mouth open, staring uselessly.

“Go on now, just leave me to it. Don’t let me hold you up.”

Black gave him a pat on the shoulder and returned to throwing his clothes into yet another case. Remus sighed and began to manoevre his way down the stairs after Dearborn.

He didn’t know what to make of Sirius Black. It was easy to dismiss his attitude to money and possessions as the result of never wanting for anything, but Remus had encountered many rich people, and he’d never met one who was inclined to be so generous to the likes of Remus Lupin. As Remus sat in the car, approaching the ugly brick mansion that was Bletchley, he puzzled over the the enigma that was Sirius Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the terms I use, such the Blitz, may be new to people who aren't familiar with British history. If I'm using too many obscure terms you don't know, let me know and I'll try and explain them more.
> 
> The music mentioned in this chapter is:  
> "Lux Aeterna" by Edward Elgar, based on Enigma variation number 10 (Nimrod), as well as "Pomp and Circumstance" by the same composer,  
> Pie Jesu from the Faure requiem,  
> and the Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily Evans talks to Remus Lupin, and really wants to slap him.

November 1942.

“Mr Lupin, I wondered if I might have a word.”

Lily had waited two days before she finally found a moment where she could speak to Lupin without James Bloody Potter in sight. He was walking away from Hut 6, to the toilet block, she suspected. It probably wasn’t the ideal time, but she needed to take her chance.

“Miss Evans, hello.”

“Would you have a moment to speak with me?”

He raised his eyebrows. It was night, but there was a nearly full moon and the scars on his face caught the light. She could see that he was curious, but also wary.

“Could you define ‘moment’? I’m on my way somewhere right now, but was going to have supper in an hour or so.”

“Yes, that would be alright. But… well, I just wanted to speak with _you_.”

He looked at her carefully, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. For a moment, Lily wondered if he was going to laugh at her, but then his expression softened.

“Of course. Perhaps I might delay by a half hour or so and let James and the others go ahead. I can wait a little longer if you can.”

She felt relief flood her and gave him a big smile.

“Thank you for understanding, Mr Lupin.”

“Not at all, Miss Evans. Until later.”

She watched him as he moved away from her. Now that she looked more closely, she could see that he wore a brace on one of his legs. She supposed it was possible that this was from being injured in the Blitz – the reason that he always gave for his scars and difficulty walking – but she’d mostly seen braces like that on people who’d had polio. She recalled Severus’s words once again – _he’s not what he seems_. Instinct told her that Lupin was trustworthy, but Severus definitely knew something that she didn’t.

Lily waited until the other girls had returned from supper before she left the decoding room to take her own break. She glanced into the machine room to see Lupin standing and picking up his crutches just as Potter, Pettigrew and the Prewitts were settling themselves back down.

“Dear me, I really didn’t notice the time passing.”

“If you miss the supper, Lupin, it’s no great loss,” Potter said. “Cabbage, peas and some sort of soupy stew with potato.”

“Or maybe a stewy soup, it was hard to tell,” Pettigrew added, before laughing at his own joke.

“Well, some people have to make do with less,” Lupin said, his tone a little snappy. “At least we have enough to eat.”

Lily stepped back and waited until Lupin had gone before she slipped out herself, catching him up as he stood in the queue for food. It was every bit as unappetising as Potter had described, but Lupin thanked the staff as if they were serving him the finest of Sunday roasts. She carried his plate for him and set both down at a table in one of the quieter corners of the room.

“Mr Lupin, thank you for meeting with me.”

He nodded and looked down at the plate, prodding at the peas, which were a dull green colour and floating in some sort of pale brown gravy. He took a forkful and swallowed them with a faint grimace.

“Not your favourite then, Mr Lupin?”

“No, I can’t stand canned peas.”

“But you eat them?”

“Of course,” he said, as if he couldn’t imagine a world in which he might refuse food.

Lily paused, wondering how to broach the topic of Sirius Black. In the end, she decided that directness was her best option.

“You were friends with Sirius Black.”

She watched him closely as she spoke, and she caught his eyes widening in shock for a moment. But his face swiftly returned to its mild façade.

“I was, yes.”

“And do you really believe he was a spy?”

“That’s a curious question, Miss Evans.”

“I’m a curious woman, Mr Lupin.”

They looked at each other, eye to eye. It struck Lily that to an outsider, they must look like lovers, gazing into each others’ eyes, but this was something quite different. He was, she suspected, sizing her up, wondering how much to tell and how much to withhold.

“No,” he said, finally, after eating some of the cabbage, which had been boiled until it was translucent. “No, Miss Evans. There are many things I could say about Sirius Black, but I cannot say I believe he would betray his country.”

“So… the story about his mother being Italian…?”

“Grandmother. She died when he was a young child, and she herself left Italy when she was twelve. Hardly a connection likely to turn a man into a traitor.”

“And his father? He obviously has some regard for… Hitler.”

“The father he hasn’t spoken to in eight years.”

“Ah… so there were difficulties with his family, then? And therefore money?”

“He’s not on speaking terms with his family, no. But he received a generous allowance, on the condition that he didn’t cause them any embarrassment. Until he was arrested, that arrangement remained in place.”

“I see. So… what about the evidence?”

Lily dropped her voice. They were already speaking quietly, but she felt particularly anxious to speak of anything which might be construed as discussing work outside the hut.

“What do you think, Miss Evans? You’ve come asking questions, but you must have a reason. What possible interest could you have in Sirius Black?”

The mild expression was gone from his face. The look in his eyes was hard and wary, and she realised that he did not trust her at all. Perhaps he thought she was just after some juicy gossip or, maybe, some titbit she could pass on to Severus. He would surely know of their friendship.

“I couldn’t stand him,” she said, deciding that her best chance of convincing him was complete frankness. “But I typed his work into my Typex for over a year. He was intelligent man.”

“ _Is_ , Miss Evans, not _was_. He _is_ an intelligent man. But there are a lot of intelligent men at BP.”

“Not intelligent like Black. Most mathematicians seem to have a certain type of intelligence, one that… well, that doesn’t always extend to other areas of life. But he was… is different. I think that if he was a spy, he would be a good spy and he wouldn’t have been caught.”

Lupin paused, his expression thoughtful. Lily thought she might just have caught his attention with that.

“That’s an interesting theory, Miss Evans. And what has motivated you to bring this theory to me? You said yourself you couldn’t stand him.”

“It’s not fair. Everyone seems to be saying that he was an obvious spy, but I think that’s rubbish. None of them ever said they thought he was a spy before. It’s just… bollocks.”

Lupin didn’t react for a moment, but then the corners of his mouth lifted. The scar which ran down to his lip made the smile slightly crooked.

“It is rather. Bollocks, that is. I do think you are quite right on that point. If Sirius was a spy, he’d have been a damned good one.”

“But you don’t think he was?”

“No.”

“So what are you doing about it?”

Lupin looked startled at that.

“Doing about it? What… What would you have me do, Miss Evans?”

“I don’t know, find out the truth? Prove he didn’t do it? You believe that he’s innocent, yet you’re just sitting there and saying nothing?”

“Miss Evans, lower your voice.”

Lily took a breath and let it out slowly.

“Mr Lupin,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Are you really prepared to let an innocent man be hanged?”

He looked down and began to pick at his supper again. She took in the slump of his shoulders, the shabby, patched clothes, the way he ate the hated canned peas with resignation on his face. _Yes_ , she thought, _you would let an innocent man be hanged. You don’t believe there’s anything you can do_.

“Mr Lupin, if you really believe he is innocent, you have to do something. You can’t just leave him to rot in jail. That’s just… unfair.”

He sighed, slow and heavy.

“Life is not fair, Miss Evans.”

“No, no it’s not. I understand that, I do. I’m a woman, believe me, we understand that life isn’t fair, in so many ways. But that doesn’t make it right. And that doesn’t mean you have to accept it. Not when a man’s life is at stake. When your friend’s life is at stake.”

He sighed again and put his fork and knife down. He looked at his hands for a long time and she just sat watching him. Part of her wanted to slap the man for being such a doormat. But another part of her realised that there was more to Lupin’s story, and that he probably had his reasons. Life moulded people, she knew. She’d watched her father fight his way up to being a manager at the mill while her mother saved every penny, and so had learned the value of prudence and hard work. Severus Snape had watched his parents fight each other and drink every penny away, while the neighbours condemned the son as ‘ _good for nothing, just like his father_ ’, so he put on airs and pretended that he was never the scared, skinny kid who stole food out of the rubbish bins at the back of the shops in Cokeworth. James Potter had never needed to fight for anything – everything he could ever want was served to him on a platter and so never expected anyone to say no to him. She wondered what had taught Lupin to feel so helpless.

Finally he lifted his head to look her in the eye.

“You are right Miss Evans. I want to do something. I do want to help him. I can’t bear the thought of him… of him in prison, of him…”

Lupin looked down again, his voice catching. He was silent for a moment and when he lifted his head, his eyes were watery, as if he was fighting back tears.

“I just don’t know what I can do. I couldn’t imagine where to start.”

Lily didn’t slap him in the face although, once again, she was tempted.

“Honestly, Mr Lupin. Do you really have no idea? I know you are one of the best cryptanalysts in the hut, how can you possibly say you don’t know where to start? Do stop being such a… a jellyfish.”

She realised that her voice was a little loud and he looked quite startled. He was still for a moment, then shook his head.

“I don’t know why you’d say that. I’m not one of the best cryptanalysts, not even close.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” she said, dropping the volume, but not the intensity of her voice. “Do you even have a backbone? I see your work. I see the work of every one of you. I know you all by those pieces of paper with their strings of letters. I know that you are organised and careful and tenacious with your work. You don’t get frustrated and just scrawl down any old rubbish, like some I could name. You see things through. Now you just need to apply those same abilities to figuring out how to help your friend.”

Lupin was silent in response, looking down at his plate again, and Lily thought that if he came back with another excuse or deflection she really would hit him. But this time, when he lifted his head, there was a different expression on his face.

“You make a compelling argument, Miss Evans. Alright, I will do that, as long as you help me. Because I notice things too, and I know that you are very capable, far more capable than most people give you credit for. I could do with your help.”

“Of course, Mr Lupin.”

“In that case, we should arrange to meet again. I need to get back and no doubt you do too.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

She stood taking both of their plates and stacking them on the pile of dirty dishes. She had a moment of gratitude that she at least had her typing skills and wasn’t stuck doing domestic chores. At least she had some chance to use her brain.

Lupin was silent as they walked back to Hut 6. It was only when they were nearly outside that he spoke to her.

“The evidence against Sirius… I heard what was said, that stolen documents were found hidden inside a magazine. Everyone has said that the magazine was… well…”

Lily was pretty sure that Lupin was not going to say it, so she did.

“Pornographic?”

“Ah… well, I suppose that would be… well, what was implied… perhaps…”

“ _Photography for Men_ , I heard that it was called. The whole thing was apparently photographs of women in their underwear. Your point, Mr Lupin?”

He turned to her and she saw that he was, rather unexpectedly, smiling at her.

“I can see why James likes you,” he said.

“Oh?”

“You say what you mean. You know your own mind and you aren’t afraid to speak it. James would appreciate that.”

Lily doubted that very much.

“He’s just not used to anyone saying no to him. He’s not really interested in me. It’s just that all the other girls bat their eyelashes and say ‘ _yes, Mr Potter”, ‘of course, Mr Potter’, ‘oh really, Mr Potter, how clever you are_ ’.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but Lily could see that crooked smile appear on his face again.

“Yes, that is probably a part of it. But I don’t think you give James enough credit. There’s more to him than there first appears.”

“There’s more to everyone than there first appears, Mr Lupin. But you just changed the subject there. You were talking about the evidence against Black. The magazine.”

He smiled again.

“You don’t miss anything, do you. Alright, here's what’s bothering me. I find it very hard to believe that Sirius would have had a magazine of that kind in his possession.”

“What makes you say that? He didn’t strike me as a prude.”

“No, not at all. But it wasn’t the kind of thing that would have interested him. It makes me think that the evidence was planted, and planted by someone who didn’t know him terribly well.”

“Oh.”

Lily couldn’t imagine what he meant. She supposed that Black could have almost any woman he wanted. She’d not seen him favour any one in particular, but he was often out with one or the other, usually the prettiest ones or those from the best families. Perhaps he had no use for such a magazine when the real thing was so easily available to him. But that didn’t strike her as a convincing argument.

“I suppose I could talk to our landlady. She doesn’t like me very much – she always preferred Sirius – but perhaps I could try buttering her up and see if she tells me anything. I don’t know if she found them snooping in his room, which isn’t unlikely, or whether someone came and searched his room and supposedly found them. But she will know.”

“There you go, Mr Lupin. Now you’re thinking like a cryptanalyst. Figuring out how to solve the problem.”

“Thank you, Miss Evans. We should meet again when I’ve had a chance to speak to her. Maybe in a couple of days. Until then…”

He gave her a nod then turned and walked into the hut. She stood still for a moment, watching him go in. She wondered again about the magazine. Why would Lupin say it wouldn’t interest Black? In her experience, men were always interested in pictures of half-naked women, and just because the real thing was available to them, that didn’t stop them wanting more. Lupin must have had another reason for saying what he did. But she couldn’t possibly imagine what that might be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has many secrets, and it's hard to keep them from a man like Sirius Black.

April 1942

Remus sat on the one chair in the room while Sirius sprawled on the bed. He lay on his back, arms spread wide and eyes closed, while the sound of mournful strings came from the grammophone. It was the third time he’d played the same record and Remus suspected that there was some reason. The music was intensely sad and, while it was undoubtedly beautiful, it was starting to bother Remus. He’d had enough pain in his life and had learned early on that dwelling on it did him no good whatsover. But the emotion in the music was seeping through to parts of him that he kept closed off, and if he listened to the piece one more time, Remus thought something might break inside him.

“My brother played the violin, you know,” Sirius said, not opening his eyes or looking at Remus.

“Oh, did he play this?”

Remus wasn’t sure whether Sirius was looking for a response. But he had to say something, since Sirius wouldn’t see it if he just nodded.

“No, I just like it.”

“Oh.”

Sirius was silent again as an agonised crescendo built up, releasing in a moment of silence before the same notes were repeated at a lower pitch and volume, and then the main melody returned. He rolled over then slid off the bed and onto the floor, before scrambling to his feet to stand by the grammophone. Remus watched, fascinated by the way he moved. Anyone else probably would have simply sat up, stood and walked across, but Sirius had his own way of doing things. Remus couldn’t stop watching him, every tilt of his head, every shake of his hair, every extravagant gesture. He was afraid Sirius would notice, but he never showed any sign that he had. Sirius always seemed unaware of the effect he had on those around him.

When the music stopped, Sirius lifted the needle. He hesitated, as if he was considering playing the piece again.

“Please, Sirius, do you think you could play something different.”

“What, you don’t like Samuel Barber? What sort of barbarian are you?”

Remus looked away, not wanting to say why he couldn’t face hearing the music again.

“Alright then, what about this one? Regulus did play this.”

He slipped the Barber carefully back into its paper sleeve, then into the cover before putting it away. He picked up another record and put it onto the turntable, before gently lowering the needle. A few soft plucked notes started the piece, before another plaintive melody, this one on solo violin, began. Sirius sat down on the edge of the bed, placing his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He closed his eyes again. Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away.

As the music continued, shifting in mood time and again, Remus realised he recognised the piece.

“Oh, I know this one. It’s… oh, Holst, isn’t it.”

Sirius opened his eyes.

“That’s right, Gustav Holst. Reg really liked his music, but he thought he shouldn’t, because he was convinced he was German, and my Uncle had fought in the Great War. He just wouldn’t believe me that he was English.”

“Oh, where was he actually from?”

“Gloucestershire.”

“Really? With a name like that?”

“Oh, yes. Family had been there for generations. Some immigrants back in history somewhere, but well and truly English by the time Gustav was born.”

“I never knew that. It makes sense now, though. Because Mr Moody always preferred English music and I did wonder why he so liked a composer named Gustav Holst.”

The mood in the music had shifted again, as the violin returned with a haunting, exotic melody.

“Reg played the solo in this. He was only 14 at the time, but he was brilliant. Worked hard at it too – music’s not all about talent. That’s why I was never as good as him. Played viola for a bit, and piano, and sang of course, although it wasn’t the same after my voice broke, but I never practiced like he did.”

“Do you miss him?”

Sirius shook his head.

“Not usually. I didn’t see much of him once I finished school. Things were… well, I didn’t see much of my family after that.”

Sirius flopped onto his back on the bed, covering his eyes with one arm. Remus just sat, not not saying anything, just watching Sirius while pretending to look past him, at a picture of cats having a tea party. It was one of several disturbing cat pictures in the room that Remus wished he had the courage to remove from the walls.

“It would have been his birthday, today,” Sirius continued. “He would have been 22.”

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry.”

“Why do people say that? Why should they be sorry when it’s nothing they’ve done?”

“I… I don’t know… it’s what people say. When there’s something…”

“Well it’s stupid. Why should you be sorry that my brother’s dead and I’d hardly even seen him since he was sixteen and I feel like I was a terrible brother because I got away and he stayed and our parents were awful to us both and I should never have left him with them?”

“I… oh.”

Remus wasn’t sure what to say to that. He knew that the petulant tone in Sirius’s voice covered a deep well of pain that he didn’t want to admit to. Remus could understand what that felt like, but he had no idea what he could do about it. 

“I suppose,” Remus said, his voice hesitant, “that perhaps I’m saying I think it’s sad that you lost your brother. And sad that the circumstances were… sad. Families should be better than that, I think.”

Sirius sat up. He looked at Remus and gave him a weak smile.

“They should, Remus, you’re right. But they aren’t, a lot of the time.”

“No.”

Remus was starting to feel uncomfortable, as Sirius was now watching him intently.

“What about you, old thing? You know all these things about me – I’ve told you about Regulus, my family, I’ve told you about school, Prongs and Wormy have told you all about me at school – none of it’s true by the way – you’ve no doubt heard all about my father in the press… but I know nothing about you. You’re a dark horse, Remus Lupin.”

“No I’m not. I’ve told you about… well, my job, for one.”

“I know you left school and went to work at a bank. That you’re a clerk. That’s about all. I know that your old school master used to play records for you. And that he was Scottish and mad and left one of his legs behind in the Somme. That he was blinded in one eye as well. That he sometimes read you poetry. That he yelled a lot but was actually quite kind. I feel like I know more about Mr Moody than I do about you.”

Remus shook his head.

“No. You know more about me than that.”

“You don’t like peas or cabbage but always eat them anyway?”

“See, you know more about me than you think.”

He tried to keep his tone light and joking, but Sirius wasn’t about to give up.

“What is it that you aren’t saying, Remus? Is your story that much worse than mine?”

Remus looked away.

“Remus?”

Sirius had moved close to him, too close. He could feel the warmth of his body and he just wanted to lean into it. He wanted to trust Sirius, to talk to him. But he had to be careful. He would be judged, he knew, so there were things he must not say and ways he must not say them.

“I had a brother who died too. Well, a half brother. He was only five. Polio.”

“Ah.”

Sirius’s hand went to Remus’s right leg, where he wore a brace and had done since he was eleven.

“Yes, I had it too,” Remus said as he felt his face go red. “I ended up with the brace and a crutch. But I could get about. Could never ride a bicycle, but when I was older I could drive, since my left leg was alright. It was only after the Blitz that things became more difficult.”

“So the story about the ambulance…”

“What about it?”

“Was that true? What you told me about being injured when you were driving an ambulance in the Blitz?”

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t make up something like that.”

He gave a heavy sigh, still looking down and not looking at Sirius.

“I was lucky, I suppose. I survived and although it rather did for my left leg… well, the doctors weren’t sure I’d walk and I can, so… yes, I was lucky.”

He shrugged and glanced at Sirius, attempting a smile.

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

Remus shook his head. He had been the only one to survive, of course he’d been lucky.

“Oh, no. I know I’ve been most fortunate. I’ve got much more than I… than I ever expected.”

He held himself tense, afraid that he’d said too much, afraid that Sirius would press him further. But then Sirius shifted away, sitting on the bed again. Remus relaxed and lifted his head, to find that Sirius had seated himself where he could look Remus in the eye.

“Remus, you’ve been very careful to avoid saying anything about your family, apart from a half-brother who died at five. And the problem is, old thing, that you’re just making me more curious. My imagination’s running wild. Mad relatives in the attic. The Earl of Whatever siring children with his servants. Gypsies. Werewolves. Skeletons in the closet, bodies in the cellar…”

Sirius was waving his arms, grandiose gestures, his face suddenly alight. Remus caught the humour and energy, and was almost laughing as he shook his head at each mad suggestion.

“No, nothing as interesting as that.”

“So, what then?”

“Just… well… things weren’t easy for my family so I… I lived in a… boy’s home from the age of eleven.”

He closed his eyes and hoped it was enough, but not too much. Maybe it would be enough to satisfy his curiousity, or maybe Sirius would be a bit embarrassed and wouldn’t ask further questions.

“What happened? Why?”

Remus opened his eyes to see Sirius looking straight at him, then closed them again immediately. Of course Sirius wasn’t embarrassed to ask more questions. His stomach churned as he tried to figure out what to say.

“I… I didn’t really get along with my step-father, I suppose. He… he didn’t want me around after my brother died… I was a reminder… it upset him.”

“That’s… that’s not right, Remus. It wasn’t your fault you got polio. It wasn’t your fault your brother died.”

Remus opened his eyes to see Sirius leaning forward with an intense look in his eyes. He reached out his hand and placed on Remus’s knee. Remus felt heat flare on his face and Sirius rapidly withdrew his hand, perhaps realising that he had crossed a boundary.

“Sorry… sorry, it’s just… Remus, that’s just so unfair.”

Remus shook his head.

“It wasn’t so bad. There was Mr Moody… he wasn’t my school master, he ran the home. He was… well, he was a bit odd… but he wasn’t unkind.”

He gave a faint smile, thinking of the former soldier with the scarred face and the missing leg. He’d been adamant that “his boys” would not turn out to be ruffians and scoundrels, whatever society may expect of them. He’d impressed upon the boys that they would be judged for their parents and for their past and had been particularly determined that they learn how to behave like civilised young men rather than street urchins.

“He played records for you.”

“Yes. And he read poetry too.”

Remus reached across to pick up a book, the spine bordered with gold and surrounding the words _The Oxford Book of English Verse_.

“He gave me this when I left. He would give a copy to all the boys. I’m sure some sold it as soon as they could, but I… I treasured mine.”

He opened it, turning the delicate pages.

“After our supper, he would play records for us, or read poems. In class, he would make us repeat it, line after line, until we had memorised some of the poems, then have us stand up at the front of the room and recite.”

Sirius tossed his head and laughed. He stood, standing himself up straight like an actor about to declaim.

“I’m imagining Cockney urchins up in front of the room reciting:

 _Shall I compare the to a summer’s day?  
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
And summers lease ‘ath all to short a date: _”

He spoke easily, as he seemed to do everything, in a very credible East End style, and Remus couldn’t help laugh as Sirius continued.

“ _Sometime too ‘ot the eye of ‘eaven shines,  
And often is ‘is gold complexion dimm’d:  
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d. _”

“Oh, we’d have never got away with that,” Remus said, struggling to regain his composure and suspecting he was scarlet in the face, “he had a man come and teach us elocution. Old Mr Binns, he was positively ancient and we all thought he was about to drop dead, but if you dropped an ‘h’ he’d hit you over the knuckles with his ruler. Mr Moody always told us that if we talked like street hoodlums, people would treat us like street hoodlums, and if we talked and acted like young gentlemen, people would treat us like young gentlemen.”

Sirius nodded, his face serious for a moment, before he spoke again.

“So what sort of poetry did he teach you? Shakespeare? Worsdworth? Shelley?

  
_Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!  
Bird thou never wert,  
That from heaven, or near it  
Pourest thy full heart  
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. _”

Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius was now affecting an accent even more posh than his own, something Remus would have believed impossible had he not heard it with his own ears.

“We learned Shelley for school, but Mr Moody was no idiot. You don’t get teenaged boys interested in poetry with skylarks and red, red roses. He had us doing war poetry.”

“What, _Into the valley of death rode the six hundred._?

Remus shook his head, and Sirius shifted mood.

  
“ _If I should die, think only this of me:  
That there’s some corner of a foreign field,  
That is forever England. _”

Remus gave a snort of derision.

“Rupert Brooke never saw the war. He died of typhoid on the way over. Mr Moody fought in the trenches and lost his leg in the Somme. No, he liked the real war poets:

  
_Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,  
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,  
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs  
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.  
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots  
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;  
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots  
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind. _”

“What the hell was that?” Sirius said, his face suddenly serious.

“You don’t know it?”

Sirius sat down in front of Remus. His face had come alive with a strange fervour.

“Never heard anything like it. It’s…”

“Real?”

“Horribly real. Is there… is there more?”

Remus nodded.

“It’s Wilfred Owen. He was in the trenches, was killed in 1918. I wonder if Mr Moody actually knew him, or one of the others who wrote that kind of work. Siegfried Sassoon, who was as English as Gustav Holst, by the way, Robert Graves, Ivor Gurney… that’s what he had us reciting.”

“No fool, your Mr Moody. Would you… can you recite more?”

“Of course. The poem I just started, it’s called _Dulce et Decorum Est_ , I think that one’s written on my brain in indelible ink.

  
_Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,  
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,  
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs  
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.  
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots  
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;  
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots  
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind._

_Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,  
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;  
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling  
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime…  
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,  
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning._

_In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,  
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning._

_If in some smothering dreams you too could pace  
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,  
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,  
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;  
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood  
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,  
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud  
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–  
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest  
To children ardent for some desperate glory,  
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est  
Pro patria mori. _”

“Oh…”

Sirius appeared stunned. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

“We never did anything like that at school. It was more Tennyson and Brooke, all noble sacrifice and the glory of Britain. I thought it was rubbish and I was dreadfully disrespectful. But I think I’d have… I’d have respected someone like your Mr Moody.”

Remus nodded.

“Oh, yes, we all did. Every now and again a new boy would decide that poetry and classical music was not… well, manly enough, I suppose. We were tough kids, not from nice… well, middle-class neighbourhoods and all that. I remember one time, a boy told him that he wasn’t going to recite his poem, that real men didn't read poems in posh voices in front of their friends. Mr Moody grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yelled into his face _‘Real men wrote poetry. This poem was written by a real man, a man who knew battle, the sort of man who stared death in the face every day, who would lead his men over the top and when one of their soldiers was wounded would carry him back, all the time under enemy fire… so don’t you try to tell me what real men are, boy. You’ll read your poem and learn your Latin and Greek and practice your vowels and one day, maybe, you’ll start acting like a real man._ ’ And he did, too, that boy, well until he was shot down in the Battle of Britain, like your brother.”

Remus fell silent, wondering if he had said too much. He hadn’t intended to remind Sirius of his brother, nor remember Benjy, who’d been a good friend to Remus and whose death had hit him hard. Then Sirius reached out his hand again, this time taking the safer option of placing it on Remus’s arm.

“Thank you for telling me that, Remus. And for the poem. I understand, I think, why you might not want to tell people about… about your family and your past. So thank you for trusting me.”

He squeezed Remus’s arm, then withdrew his hand. Remus felt his face colour again and Sirius stood, rifling through his records and not looking at him. He put another record on, this one a piano tune, lively and cheerful, before flopping back onto the bed. Remus sat listening in silence, and the record was over before he trusted his voice enough to speak again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pieces of music referenced are:  
> "Adagio for strings" by Samuel Barber  
> "Intermezzo from St Paul Suite" by Gustav Holst  
> Both are on the "Enigma variations" spotify playlist by atropa-nz.
> 
> The poems quoted are _To his love_ by William Shakespeare, _To a skylark_ by Percy Bysshe Shelley, _Charge of the Light Brigade_ by Alfred Lord Tennyson, _The soldier_ by Rupert Brooke and _Dulce et Decorum Est_ by Wilfred Owen. The cat painting is by Louis Wain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily learns more about Sirius Black's secrets.

Lupin was late. They’d agreed to meet in the little tea shop on the main street at ten and it was now a quarter past. Lily was starting to feel uncomfortable as other customers glanced in her direction then turned back to their companions to whisper quietly. She intended to give Lupin a thorough tongue-lashing when he finally arrived.

When Lupin finally walked through the door, she didn’t. He looked exhausted, perhaps even ill, and he was moving so slowly it was little wonder he was late. But he gave her a friendly smile and ordered tea for both of them at the counter before coming to join her at the table.

“Miss Evans, I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said as he manoevered himself into the seat opposite her.

He winced as he sat down and she realised that he was in pain.

“That’s quite alright, Mr Lupin” she said, feeling guilty that she’d been so upset earlier. “But what’s the matter? Are you ill?”

He shook his head, appearing a little surprised that she had asked.

“No, no, mostly just… tired. Working a lot, not sleeping so well, that kind of thing, I suppose. Everything seems to be taking me longer than usual.”

“But you’re in pain. I can see that.”

He gave a weak smile.

“A little more than usual, perhaps. But I’m fine, really. How about you? Are you well?”

“Perfectly well, thank you,” she replied as the woman who ran the shop brought their tea over.

Lily waited impatiently for the woman to finish arranging tea things. When she’d finally finished, Lily folded her hands and looked at Lupin.

“Well?” she said. “Did you find out anything from the landlady?”

Lupin gave another of his faint smiles.

“Straight to the point, as ever, Miss Evans. Yes, I did find out a little. I’m not sure how it helps, but…”

He looked down then back up, before continuing.

“She was the one who found the stolen documents. She was tidying his room, she said, and knocked something off the dressing table. When she was picking it up, she noticed a magazine, so she picked that up too, and the documents fell out of it. She said it was behind the dressing table and she thought it must have fallen down the back. It was only when the papers fell out that she realised he must have hidden it there. So she says.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“I don’t think she just accidentally spotted it while tidying his room. She was probably snooping. We both knew that she went through our things quite regularly. She’ll take cash if it’s left, from what Sirius has said. I never have any lying about.”

“Did he report her? Perhaps she made it up because of that?”

Lupin shook his head.

“Dashed hard thing to prove. He just got a bit more careful, and to be honest, I’m not sure he’d even have noticed half of the time. He wasn’t terribly careful with money.”

“Oh. So you think she found the magazine looking for money?”

“Probably. But I’m not sure how knowing that helps us. Whether she found it tidying or pilfering doesn’t make much difference. The documents and the magazine were in his room, and they shouldn’t have been.”

“You seemed very sure about the magazine last time, Mr Lupin. But I don’t know how you can be so certain.”

He looked at her for a moment, and then glanced down at the teapot.

“Should be ready to pour, I think, Miss Evans.”

She held his gaze for a moment, showing that she wasn’t going to be diverted. But he was right, so she set about pouring the tea. When she was done, he lifted his cup and took a sip, before placing it back in the saucer. His other hand rested on the table, one finger tapping, as if he was transmitting morse code, although there wasn’t any discernable pattern. More likely it was just a nervous habit.

“Miss Evans, what I tell you must remain in the strictest confidence. I can rely on you, can’t I, to keep a secret?”

Lily rolled her eyes.

“Really? You have to ask that when I work at BP?”

He smiled, and there was a hint of mischief in his grin which lifted his face and made him look a decade younger. She wondered how old he actually was. By his clothes and generally worn demeanor, she’d assumed he was in his thirties, but now she wondered whether he was much older than her at all.

“Honestly, this place is the worst gaggle of gossips I’ve ever seen. Nobody can talk about work, so they just talk about each other.”

Lily laughed, realising that what he said wasn’t far from the truth.

“Alright, Mr Lupin, I’ll give you my honest promise. I won’t tell a soul.”

“Not even your friend Mr Snape?”

Lily frowned. Severus might have got her the job at Bletchley, but he wasn’t acting like much of a friend. He seemed far too interested in sucking up to his posh friends.

“Certainly not.”

Lupin sighed and looked down at his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and she leaned forwards slightly to hear him better.

“Alright, Miss Evans. I do believe you. I do trust you. So yes, the magazine. I’m quite sure it didn’t belong to Sirius because he wouldn’t have had the slightest interest in it.”

“Yes, you already said that, but I don’t understand why.”

“Sirius is… is not interested in women. In that way. He would have no interest in pictures of half-naked women.”

“But… oh. Oh,” Lily said, as her eyes widened in surprise. “He’s a… he’s…”

She struggled to think of a word she could say in polite company, rather than something she’d heard her father use as an insult. Lupin just looked at her with a slightly amused expression on his face, not helping one bit.

“But he’s gone out with lots of women. He’s taken Mary to the pictures. And Marlene, I think.”

“Yes, he has, but you don’t notice him favouring any one of them, do you? He likes the company of women well enough, and it keeps his family happy that he’s seen with them, but none of them would consider themselves his girlfriend, would they?”

“No, that’s true,” she said, still mulling over the revelation. “Is it… is that something you’ve known a while?” she asked.

“A while, yes,” he replied. “His close friends knew.”

“And they… you… weren’t concerned?”

“I suppose that depends on what you mean by concerned.”

“Concerned that… well… actually, I’m not sure. It didn’t bother you? Clearly, you are still his friend. As is James Potter. I assume he knew?”

Lupin nodded.

“James knew, yes, of course. Sirius and he have been best friends since they were eleven. And that’s the reason that Sirius wasn’t on speaking terms with his family. It was James who helped him when things rather blew up.”

Lily took a breath, about to say more, then stopped. She’d dismissed Potter as being rather silly. Brilliant at what he did, yes, but apart from that, he struck her as a typical upper-class twit. He hadn’t struck her as the kind of person who’d stand by a friend who found himself in that kind of strife, a friend who was what her father would have called a sodomite. Or a queer. Or… well, none of them were terms she would want to say out loud.

“So, you’re quite sure the magazine wasn’t his,” she said, shifting back to the matter at hand. “You don’t think there was any chance he had the magazine because he was interested in photography? It was called ‘Photography for men’ or something like that.”

Lupin shook his head.

“If Sirius was interested in photography, he’d have owned a camera. Well, he’d probably have two or three, and dozens of magazines, and books and every other thing that an enthusiast would have. If Sirius is interested in anything, he does it properly, no half measures.”

Lily was silent. Lupin’s comment tallied with her knowledge of Black as well.

“And from what Mrs Umbridge said,” Lupin continued, “it really was just a magazine with pictures of women wearing not-very-much. She’d obviously had a good look through it.”

“She sounds like a delightful woman.”

“She is, indeed. Absolutely charming.”

He looked back down at his hands, before speaking again.

“So, I’ve been thinking how the magazine and papers got into Sirius’s room.”

“Could your landlady be lying? Do you think someone told her to say she found something so they could pin it on Black?”

Lupin opened and then closed his mouth, as if he had intended to speak but then changed his mind. He looked down, finger tapping again, then looked up after a good minute or two had passed. Lily drank her tea and let him think.

“I hadn’t thought of that, I admit, Miss Evans. I hadn’t considered Mrs Umbridge to be quite that convincing a liar. But that is possible, I suppose. On the other hand, she did seem rather shocked to have found the magazine and documents. I think that was genuine.”

“So you don’t think should dismiss the possibility?”

“No, I think we should keep our minds open to that, Miss Evans. You know, you’ve got quite the detective’s brain.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Yes, so, back to the papers and magazine. If Mrs Umbridge didn’t plant them, the other possibility is that someone else must have. Sirius was arrested on a Wednesday. They came to the hut in the late morning, and Mrs Umbridge confirmed that it was Wednesday morning when she found and reported finding the documents. I don’t think that they could have been planted on Wednesday morning. We were both on the day shift on Tuesday, but ended up working late. We weren’t home until well after nine. We talked a little, in my room, listened to a record to wind down, then Sirius went up to bed. I was pretty tired and I think Sirius was too.”

He paused, looking at her to see if she was following him. She gave a nod in response.

“Go on, Mr Lupin.”

“I’m assuming that the magazine and documents were already hidden in the room by Tuesday night. I don’t think Sirius would have noticed if they were reasonably well hidden. Even if they’d been through and disturbed things, well, Mrs Umbridge could have done that anyway. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought.”

“Could someone have got into his room without her noticing?”

“I think so. She does go out, there’s some sort of do-gooding group attached to her church. They do whatever it is they do on Tuesdays. She’s always telling people about it, how she’s been a member for however many years, helping so many people and all that. So anybody and everybody would know that the house would have been empty for most of the day on Tuesday.”

“Oh, right, that makes sense.”

“But it still doesn’t help us. I don’t understand why. Sirius can be annoying at times, but he’s generally pretty inoffensive. Harmless, really. I don’t know why someone would frame him.”

“To divert attention away from the real spy?”

“I’ve thought about that, but it… it leads me down some rather disturbing paths. If someone was under suspicion, then diverting the attention to Sirius would really only work if he was close enough to the spy for him to be under suspicion as well, at least a little bit. I mean, if there was a spy in hut eight, for example, then framing someone from hut six would be of little help. So it would have to be someone close. Someone from our hut. A man I know well. I just don’t… I just can’t see it.”

“Or woman.”

“I… oh, yes, I suppose it could be. I didn’t think, but… yes. Or woman. But even then… it’s hard to imagine.”

“Harder than believing that Black is the spy?”

“No, no, you’re right. Nobody seems likely to me, but Sirius is among the least likely, in my view. Which means some must be more likely. I’ll give that some more consideration. Although, I have to consider the point about the magazine. The magazine suggests that whoever planted that evidence didn’t know Sirius well.”

“You said close friends knew. What about… did he have… lovers?”

Lupin looked distinctly uncomfortable at the question. Obviously, his tolerance of his friend didn’t extend to knowing the details.

“Yes,” he said, his voice tight. “Yes, he did, Miss Evans.”

“Many?”

He sighed.

“Quite a few. Half a dozen, maybe more, in the last six months. Things were quite casual. Nobody special.”

“That’s quite a few people to entrust with a secret of that size.”

“I know, Miss Evans. I worried for him. But that was how he was. He wasn’t the sort to worry about consequences.”

“Could it have been one of them?”

“Well, they’d hardly make the mistake with the magazine.”

“No, of course. I suppose I’m just trying to get a picture of how many knew, say in hut six.”

“Just James, Peter and me, I think. A few in other huts. And…oh.”

Lupin paused. He appeared to be thinking, so Lily waited for him to speak again.

“He has cousins who work here. At BP. I wonder if they know. Because one of them is in hut 6 as well.”

“Oh, not Narcissa Black?”

The haughty woman worked in the receiving room. She was pretty and blonde and most of the men fawned over her. Lily trusted her not one bit.

“Yes, that’s her. Both her sisters work at BP too. Bellatrix and Andromeda. Andromeda’s alright, according to Sirius.”

“If they knew, then it’s starting to look like his secret is not all that secret.”

Remus dropped his head forward and rubbed at the worry line between his eyebrows.

“I know. He just never… he was just never quite concerned enough…”

He continued rub his face, moving on to one eyebrow and giving a slow sigh before speaking again.

“I was afraid he’d be arrested. But not for this. I still can’t believe it. Nothing makes sense… except…”

Lily gave an encouraging nod.

“Go on, Mr Lupin. You’ve thought of something, haven’t you.”

“Nothing concrete. But I was thinking, the morning he was arrested, as well as the day before, something seemed a bit off with him. He wasn’t quite himself. A bit quieter than usual, and he got a bit snappy with me. He did get that way sometimes, so I didn’t think too much of it. But now I’m wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

Lupin shook his head and began rubbing at his face again.

“I don’t know. It’s just… nothing makes any sense. I just can’t see why someone would frame him.”

“It comes back to that, doesn’t it. I suspect that if we could know the reason, we’d know who did it. Perhaps that’s what we should focus on next. Think about possible reasons for a couple of days, then meet again to see if that sparks anything.”

“Yes, alright, Miss Evans. I must be going anyway. I need to head up to BP. You have a good day, Miss Evans.”

He began pushing himself to his feet and she rose with him. She handed him his crutches, one after the other, then walked with him to the door. She almost pulled it open herself, but Lupin took the door handle while still carrying the crutch.

“After you, Miss Evans.”

“Thank you, Mr Lupin, and see you later.”

She watched as he turned and began to move slowly down the road, before turning away herself and heading towards her lodgings.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Potter throws a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, finally getting to some actual Wolfstar smut now...
> 
> Also, just so you know, I'm messing with canon character ages a bit, mostly so I can get Andromeda Tonks into the story. And 'Wrens' are members of the _Women's Royal Naval Service_ , the women's branch of the navy (until it was merged with the regular British Navy in 1993). Wrens performed a wide range of non-combat roles, from cooking and clerical work to the maintenance of planes and weaponry.

June 1942

“ _I may be right, I may be wrong,  
But I'm perfectly willing to swear  
That when you turned and smiled at me  
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square_.”

Remus sat watching as James Potter, one arm around Peter Pettigrew’s shoulders and leaning heavily on him, serenaded his landlady. She perched primly on the edge of a chair, obviously trying hard not to be amused at the sight, but failing. The former schoolmistress may have worn a stern visage as she marched around the village, but it was well-known that she doted on her eccentric and rather unruly tenant. As one such example, she was perfectly willing to allow him to hold parties in her parlour, as long as she was present to ensure that some propiety was maintained.

Accompanying James on the piano was Sirius. He was an essential part of James’s infamous parties, not just because he was James’s best friend, but because he played the piano. Invariably, the parties would end up with Sirius at the piano in the corner of the parlour, accompanying voices ranging from toneless to exquisite. 

When he finished singing to Miss McGonagall, James walked over to the piano and grabbed his hand.

“That’s enough of you hiding in the corner,” he said, tugging at Sirius’s arm and trying to get him to move. “Join us, come on Pads.”

Sirius shook his head. Remus had seen him sing at one of James’s parties before, but he was obviously reluctant. Remus thought his voice was perfectly lovely although he himself disparaged it, insisting that nobody would want to listen to his awful croaking.

“Oh, but you must,” Peter Pettigrew chimed in.

Sirius scowled and turned back to the piano, beginning to play.

“Oh, oh, _Jerusalem_ ,” James exclaimed.

Peter and James immediately began to sing again, followed by the Prewitt brothers and a couple of others whose names Remus had heard but promptly forgotten. They’d also been at university with Sirius, James and Peter. Before the first verse was over, the whole room was singing.

Remus reached for his crutches and scrambled to his feet. Carefully, he moved around the group of young men, who were arm in arm and singing loudly about England’s _pleasant pastures, clouded hills_ and _dark satanic mills_ , and over to the corner by the piano. He smiled at Sirius, who still had a scowl on his face as his fingers thumped the keys. Sirius glanced up. His face relaxed as he saw Remus.

“Prongs can be a rank spoon sometimes,” he said.

“Oh,” Remus replied, not entirely sure what Sirius was saying. “You really don’t like singing?”

“Not much, no.”

“I like hearing you sing. You always sound good to me.”

Sirius glanced up again. He’d obviously played the music many times and didn’t need to concentrate.

“Really? Have you a tin ear?”

“I don’t think so, Sirius. Last week you told me I had an excellent ear.”

Remus promptly went red. He was being far bolder than he normally was with Sirius and realised that the drinks he’d had had loosened his tongue.

Sirius smiled then, looking up through the hair that had flopped over his face.

“Maybe another drink and I’ll be ready, Remus,” he said, playing the closing bars then getting up from the piano.

He walked across to the table which was generously stocked with a range of bottles that Remus hadn’t recognised. He poured two glasses of something red and walked back to the piano, handing one glass to Remus and drinking half of the other himself. He began to play and immediately half of the room was singing again.

When the song and his drink was finished, Sirius got to his feet and walked across to a woman with long black hair, who had been introduced to Remus as Sirius’s cousin Andromeda. He stretched out his hand to her.

“Alright, Dromeda,” he said. “If I’m going to sing, then you have to as well.”

She shook her head.

“Go on, love, I ain’t heard you sing,” said the man next to her, giving her a gentle nudge.

The man had introduced himself only as ‘Tonks'. Remus recognised him as the man they called in whenever one of the Typex machines was being particularly stubborn. He was the only uniformed man in the room, an army engineer who’d originally worked on maintaining tanks, but who’d been brought in early on to service the bombes. He was known to be the man to call when there was a particularly difficult problem with any kind of machine. He’d even fixed Sirius’s beloved motorbike on a couple of occasions.

Tonks had arrived with Andromeda and a couple of Wrens, who had East End accents similar to his and who were wide eyed at the elegant company they found themselves in. Remus himself still found himself overwhelmed at being included in a social circle which included so much wealth and status.

“Oh, alright then,” Andromeda said. “I’ll do it for you. Pass me the madrigal book.”

Sirius handed over a book and she began leafing through it.

“Emmeline,” she said, turning to one of the women who had arrived with the Prewitt brothers. “Do you know _The silver swan_?”

“Oh, Gibbons, yes.”

Both women got to their feet and Sirius grabbed James by the arm.

“Not that dirge,” James moaned. “Sing something cheerful.”

“Oh, do shut up, Prongs,” Sirius said. “You wanted me to sing.”

Sirius played a single chord on the piano, then joined the others clustered around the book.

“ _The silver swan, who living had no note,  
When death approached unlocked her silent throat_.”

The sombre tone of the song was rather ruined by James, who sang the tenor part at full volume and slightly out of tune, still with a glass of wine in one hand. But Remus could barely take his eyes off Sirius, who sang the bass part in a gentle voice with a wistful expression on his face. Andromeda’s voice soared over the others, and as they reached the final lines her eyes met Sirius’s.

“ _More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise_.”

“Right, that’s enough of that miserable rot,” James said, snatching the book from Sirius. “How about ‘ _Come again_ ’?”

“Oh, yet, let’s,” Peter added, elbowing his way between James and Sirius.

They started off, slightly haphazardly, and the song fell apart before they had finished the second phrase.

“Wrong key,” said Andromeda, walking across to the piano and playing a chord.

They started off again, each verse getting louder and more flirtatious. James and Peter kept winking at the giggling Wrens, Andromeda kept glancing at Tonks and even Sirius starting getting into the spirit – at least the scowl had left his face. By the final verse, James, Peter and Sirius were nudging and winking at each other, while Emmeline was blushing scarlet. Only Andromeda finished the song with any dignity.

“ _Gentle Love, draw forth thy wounding dart,  
Thou canst not pierce her heart;  
For I, that do approve  
By sighs and tears more hot than are thy shafts  
Do tempt while she for triumphs laughs._”

Peter and James both fell to their knees laughing.

“Oh, oh let’s sing something really good, Wormy. What about _Mille volte il dì_?”

Peter began laughing hysterically.

“Oh, oh, _Mille volte il dì_. Padfoot, come on.”

“You’re far to drunk to sing Gesualdo. You can barely manage it sober,” Andromeda said, glancing at Miss McGonagall, who was beginning to look slightly alarmed.

“Yes, I think that we might be just about finished for tonight,” she said.

“Right then,” Sirius said, returning to the piano. “ _God save the King_ and then we’re done.”

Everyone rose to their feet and sang, even Remus, who only dared to sing when the volume around him was loud enough that nobody was likely to hear him. Once they’d finished, people began taking their leave, until just James, Sirius, Peter, Remus and Miss McGonagall were left.

“My dearest Minnie, you are such a sport,” James said, taking her hand and giving it a kiss.

“Go on with you,” she said, blushing slightly. “You boys should get home. Take care out there in the dark.”

They stepped out the front door and into the dark street.

“Dash this blackout,” Peter said. “Can’t see a ruddy thing.”

“You have to close your eyes,” Remus said.

“That won’t help me see.”

“Go on, close them.”

Peter and Sirius both closed their eyes.

“Can I open them yet?” Sirius asked.

“No,” Remus said, his own eyes also closed.

“What about now?”

“No. Wait.”

“How about now?”

“Alright.”

They opened their eyes.

“Remus, you’re a genius,” Sirius said, swinging an arm around Remus’s shoulders and planting a loud kiss on one cheek.

“That’s amazing,” Peter added.

“Have you really never done that before? We always did it before heading to drive in the Blitz.”

They began walking down the road, Sirius ahead, Remus and Peter lagging behind. Peter was evidently quite drunk, and kept bumping into Remus. He was relieved when they reached Peter’s digs and said goodbye.

“Walk with me Remus.”

Sirius took one of Remus’s crutches off him, putting himself in its place. He put his arm around Remus’s waist and the other arm held the crutch. Remus realised that Sirius was also quite drunk, and he wasn’t exactly sober himself. They turned down the main road, making slow progress.

Remus heard the footsteps before he saw the figure clad in black. He was walking at a brisk pace and wearing a coat despite the warm evening. As he came closer, Remus could see a pale face under black hair. Remus recognised him as one of the men who worked up at the main house. He was notoriously unfriendly.

“Well, if it isn’t Snivellus,” Sirius said loudly.

“Black, Lupin,” the man replied, giving a nod. “How very romantic. Out for a little stroll in the moonlight?”

“Out for a little stroll in the moonlight?” Sirius repeated, only he spoke in a heavy northern accent, similar to that of Lily Evans, the girl in the decoding room that James Potter fancied.

Anger flashed across the man’s face and he shoved past them on the footpath, leaving Remus struggling not to fall. When he’d recovered his balance, he turned to Sirius with a questioning look on his face. Sirius burst out laughing and Remus couldn’t help but start laughing too.

“Who… what… what was that about?”

“Oh, Snivellus Snape. He went to our school. Scholarship boy.”

“Snivellus?”

“Well, his name’s Severus, but who the hell’d call him that. When he first came to the school, he had the most appalling provincial accent. Sounded like that girl in the decoding room, you know, the one Prongs’s always on about.”

Remus’s laughter died and he felt as if the night had turned cold. Mr Moody had always told the boys they’d be judged for the way they spoke if they weren’t careful to speak just as Mr Binns had instructed them, but Remus had never seen such clear proof.

“I don’t suppose he could help the way he spoke,” Remus said, ennunciating the words carefully, suddenly self-conscious and worried he’d slip back into the mix of Bristol and Welsh accent he’d had when he’d entered the boy’s home.

Sirius looked at him for a moment, then smiled.

“You’re a better man than me, Remus,” he said.

Remus shook his head. Sirius seemed about to argue, then he shrugged.

“Shall we resume our moonlit stroll then, Remus?”

As they started moving agin, Sirius began to sing, the same song the James had sung to his landlady earlier in the evening.

“ _The moon that lingered over London town  
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown  
How could he know we two were so in love  
The whole darn world seemed upside down  
The streets uptown were paved with stars  
It was such a romantic affair  
And as we kissed and said goodnight  
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square!_”

“You’re a star,” Remus said, starting to get back into the spirit. “Sirius is the brightest star in the sky. Well, apart from the sun.”

“Well, yes, I am, Remus. So what would you be? A nightingale?”

“Hardly. That would be your cousin, surely.”

“She does have a lovely voice. How about the moon. Poor puzzled moon, wearing a frown. That would be you. Sitting to the side, watching everyone, wearing a puzzled frown.”

“Alright. Truer than a nightingale.”

Sirus began to sing again, the same song, but this time starting from the beginning. They reached their lodgings just as Sirius was ending the song.

“You know, you’re beautiful in the moonlight,” Sirius said.

Remus frowned.

“What?”

“There you go, my poor puzzled moon. The moonlight suits you.”

“Because the darkness hides my scars, you mean?”

“No, no. Your scars are… they make you look… rugged. Like a man who has lived life. A man of mysteries and secrets.”

“Well, yes,” Remus said, fumbling in his pocket for the key then unlocking the door.

He stumbled through the doorway and started for the stairs, trying to drive away feelings that he shouldn’t be feeling. He kept his head turned away from Sirius, so he couldn’t catch his eye. But Sirius stayed close, half helping him up the stairs, half getting in the way.

At the top of the stairs, Sirius hushed Remus with a theatrical _shhhh_.

“Don’t want to wake Dolly,” he said.

Neither of them were exactly quiet though, still a little drunk and clumsy as they walked down the corridor and into Remus’s room. Remus sank down onto his bed then pushed his crutches away. He gave a sigh of relief, then flopped backwards, lying on the bed and looking at the ceiling. The bed felt as if it was moving slightly under him.

“Don’t you go to sleep there, my moon.”

“Tired.”

Sirius flopped down beside him, shaking one shoulder.

“Wake up, my moony, moony moon.”

Remus opened his eyes to see Sirius just above him. His face was framed by black hair and his grey eyes were locked on Remus’s. Drawing a sharp breath, Remus tried again to push away the feelings that he shouldn’t feel, feelings that he couldn’t allow him to feel. And then Sirius lowered his head and Remus didn’t stand a chance.

Their lips met, and Remus felt the kiss right through his body. He felt it in his lips, in his belly, in his groin, even a tingling running down the back of his legs. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he just felt. He could feel the gentle pressure of Sirius’s lips, his warm breath, his hair brushing Remus’s face. Then he felt Sirius’s hand on his shoulder, moving to his chest then sliding down, fiddling with buttons then slipping inside his shirt, untucking his singlet and sliding underneath. Remus gasped as Sirius’s fingers found his nipple.

Sirius lifted his head up slightly, drawing their lips apart.

“Alright, my Moony?”

Before he realised he was doing it, Remus reached up to pull Sirius’s head back down. Sirius kissed him again, this time hungrily, urgently, as Remus felt his world spiral out of control. He’d spent so long telling himself that this was wrong, that he could never, should never, must never but it didn’t feel wrong. It felt so, so right as Sirius began to kiss his way down Remus’s body, as Sirius’s hands began undoing his trousers, as Sirius’s fingers touched his cock.

“Come on,” Sirius said, pulling his hand and mouth away. “Up on the bed properly.”

Remus blinked at him, too dazed to respond.

“Come on, my moony, you’re lying half off the bed.”

Sirius grabbed him by one arm and Remus finally realised what he was asking. He began to wriggle backwards so that his legs were on the bed, his trousers slipping down over his hips, helped by Sirius, who was tugging them down until they were sitting around his ankles. Then Sirius lowered his head and Remus could think of nothing else but how incredible his mouth felt on his throbbing prick.

“Ahhhh.”

Sirius pulled his mouth away and Remus gave a moan.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you.”

Then his mouth was back, sucking, licking, teasing him by drawing away and puffing whispers of cool breath against his heated hardness, and Remus heard a series of increasingly desperate whimpers and moans escape his own lips. He shoved his hand over his mouth to stop himself crying out Sirius’s name as he felt the intensity building and building until he didn’t know if he could stand it without screaming. Sirius had a hand on him as well as his mouth, the other hand pressing down on Remus’s hip to stop him writhing in the bed and thrusting into Sirius’s mouth. Then, when he thought that there couldn’t possibly be anything more to come, Sirius began to moan himself, and the vibration ran through Remus from his balls to his belly to the tips of his fingers and toes, and everything around him seemed to explode in sensation.

As Remus lay with half-closed eyes, marvelling at what he had just felt, Sirius pulled himself beside him. He held his hand to Remus’s mouth.

“Lick me,” he said, in a voice little more than a husky whisper.

Remus complied, lacking the energy to wonder what he was doing. Then Sirius was shoving his hands down his own half-undone trousers, pulling out a magnificent, engorged cock that Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

“You like that, don’t you, my Moony.”

Remus responded with a sigh.

“Do you want to touch me?”

Sirius took Remus’s hand, licked it, then moved it down to his cock. Remus touched it gingerly, not sure he should, but then his touch made Sirius groan, and Remus very much wanted to hear more of that sound. He closed his fingers and began to slide up and down.

“You feel so good, my moony moon,” Sirius was whispering in his ear. “Oh, Remus, oh yes, so good.”

He placed his own hand over Remus’s, speeding up the movement and giving a sharp, strangled cry as he came over their hands and Remus’s hip.

They lay there for a few minutes, hands entwined, breathing in time with each other. Then Sirius pulled his hand away and returned it with a handkerchief, which he used to clean up the mess.

Remus watched through narrowed eyes as Sirius pushed himself upright and began buttoning his trousers and tucking in his shirt. His hair was still dishevelled, but he looked remarkably composed, given what he had just been doing.

“I must go, it wouldn’t do for Dolly to catch me in here like this.”

And with that Sirius was gone.

It was only after he’d left that Remus was able to think about what he’d done. He’d just engaged in a filthy, lewd act with another man, his colleague and friend, no less. Remus had touched himself occasionally, and he may have had to push images of some of the young men he knew out of his mind while doing so, but he’d never entertained the thought of actually doing anything. He’d never thought he would touch another man in such a way. That would be disgusting and perverted, and Remus didn’t need to be thought of as perverted, along with everything else.

But what became clear to him, as his mind churned over what he had just done, was that it wasn’t something new for Sirius. He’d known exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly how to touch Remus, what to do with his hands, what to do with his soft lips and his wicked tongue. These weren’t the fumblings of a beginner.

Then as Remus lay in the dark wondering what that made him, wondering what that made Sirius, he realised something far worse. He wanted to do it all again. If Sirius was to walk through his door again and say ‘ _Kiss me, Remus_ ’, then Remus would. If Sirius asked ‘ _Do you want to touch me?_ ’, Remus would say ‘ _Yes_ ’. Even if Sirius asked him to put his mouth on Sirius’s cock, which was the filthiest thing that Remus could imagine, he would.

With that disturbing thought in his mind, his stomach churning with guilt and his prick half-hard at the thought of Sirius, Remus drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious, the music referenced in this chapter is:  
>  _A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square_ by Eric Maschwitz and Manning Sherwin. It was sung by Vera Lynn, probably the iconic British singer of the WW2 years.
> 
>  _Jerusalem_. The words of this song are a poem by William Blake. The music was composed by Hubert Parry, originally at the request of a friend who was a member of the ultra-patriotic Fight For Right group. Parry became increasingly uncomfortable with his music being linked to such a cause. However when the song was sung at a 1918 protest in support of women's suffrage, Parry was delighted, and he gave his full support to it being used as their anthem. The song remained popular, and by the 1940s it was Britain's unofficial national anthem.
> 
>  _The silver swan_ is madrigal by Orlando Gibbons. Madrigals were original written as social music - the entertainment of the well-educated in the days before radio, television and indeed electricity. This particular madrigal finishes with social commentary, lamenting the lack of swans among the geese (wise among the fools).
> 
>  _Come again_ is a madrigal by John Dowland. Like many madrigals, it's full of sexual subtext and innuendo.
> 
>  _Mille volte il dì_ is a madrigal by Carlo Gesulado. Musically, it is complicated to sing, requiring great precision in tuning - as Andromeda said, it's not something to attempt inebriated. It sounds like a lament of a spurned lover, but the words "a thousand times a day I die" can be taken in the context of the French "little death" (orgasm), so it can also be seen as as a song about masturbation.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily and Remus cast the net wider in trying to figure out the spy.

November 1942

Lily had to admit she was stumped.

She and Lupin had made a list of all hut six personnel, and had worked through it, trying to figure out who could possibly be a spy. Both of them were quiet observers of others, and between them they knew quite a lot about their colleagues, but it was little use. Nobody stood out to them as likely.

Lupin had recorded all their thoughts in an old exercise book, using some sort of code he’d created himself. He kept trying different angles, different ways of looking at the problem, but even he seemed ready to admit he was stuck.

They’d agreed that they needed another mind on the problem. What was harder to agree on was which mind they needed. Lupin had immediately suggested Potter, but Lily quickly vetoed that suggestion. She’d said she wouldn’t work with Potter but would consider Pettigrew, but Lupin didn’t want to ask him. He hadn’t said why but, when she thought about it, Lily thought she knew. She’d typed enough of his cribs to know that he wasn’t up to much as a cryptanalyst, in fact she suspected that sometimes he just put random sequences of letters on the page just so it looked like he was producing something. He probably wasn’t the kind of brain that they needed.

Lupin had insisted on creating another list of their colleagues, just as they had when trying to work out the spy. He’d worked through it just as meticulously, and Lily had an insight into how he cracked codes. He’d note down a name, in code of course, and then, in discussion with Lily, either cross it off immediately or put a dot beside it. When he’d filled a page, they’d go back through the remaining names and discard most of them after some further discussion. One or two, he would transfer to another page for further consideration. Lily found the process tedious, but she supposed that was why she wasn’t a cryptanalyst. Well, that, and because she was a working class woman who was already lucky to have a job far above her station. The cyptanalysts were those who had been to university, men, and occasionally women, whose parents could afford a good education.

She’d said as much to Lupin, but he’d surprised her with his response.

“I never went to university.”

“Really? I thought everyone here had. Well, you know what I mean, everybody who is anybody.”

“Mostly, I think. But I worked in a bank. Just shuffling papers around really, nothing very skilled. Keeping records updated, that kind of thing.”

“So how did you end up here?”

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. I was approached and asked if I was interested in a particular type of contribution to the war effort. They wouldn’t tell me what it was, said it was very hush, hush, top secret stuff.”

“So you just agreed, just like that? Without knowing what it was? What would you have done if it was, I don’t know, parachuting behind enemy lines in some sort of insane plot to assassinate Hitler?”

“They were hardly going to recruit someone like me for a job like that,” he said.

“Did you know the people who approached you?”

“No, not at all. I wondered if it was a prank at first, although I didn’t know anyone who’d find that kind of thing funny. But they made me sign the Official Secrets Act, and threatened dire consequences if I told anyone, so that made it seem more real.”

“What did you tell your family?”

His face had darkened at that.

“I don’t see much of them,” he said. “They’re not that concerned.”

Lily had allowed him to change the subject, as mention of his family obviously troubled him. He’d quickly turned the conversation back to their consideration of who to approach for help with their conundrum.

They had narrowed their list down to two, Dorcas Meadowes, the female cryptanalyst in hut five, and Andromeda Black, who worked in hut one. That hut had initially housed the first Bombes, but it was now an administration and maintenance building. Andromeda was some sort of supervisor there. She was Black’s cousin, not something which recommended her to Lily. But Lupin had said that she was the only one of this relatives that Black communicated with, so she might have information. In the end, Lily had agreed.

Lily arrived at the tea shop just as Lupin was at the counter, ordering the tea. He turned to her and gestured towards a different table to their usual, this one larger, but still a reasonable distance from the other patrons. She sat down and waited for him to come over to the table. When he did, she realised that he only had one crutch. For a moment, she thought that it must signify an improvement in his walking, but he didn’t look better. If anything, he was moving even more slowly than he had before.

When he reached her, she saw that the left hand side of his face – the half she hadn’t seen when he turned to greet her – was bruised. One eye was half-closed by swelling, and there were purple marks from his forehead to his jaw.

“What happened to you, Mr Lupin?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Miss Evans. I just fell over, bit clumsy, you know.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing. Have you seen a doctor?”

“Really, it’s fine.”

He sat down, and she noticed him grimace and close his eyes for a moment. He seemed to be favouring his left arm as well, holding it still as if he didn’t want to jar it. She opened her mouth to point that out, but then he began getting to his feet again.

“Miss Black,” he said, and Lily turned to see a tall, elegant women entering the shop. She was accompanied by a man in uniform. He made a sharp contrast to the woman beside him, looking rather grubby, with black marks on his hands and under his fingernails. His uniform was clean, but obviously well-worn. She recognised him as one of the men who looked after the bombes, often supervising a couple of Wrens. He’d been in to surpervise the maintenance of the Typex machines on occasion, although she’d never spoken to him.

“Mr Lupin,” Andromeda said, in a voice every bit as posh as Black’s. “Don’t get up, please.”

Lily turned back to see Lupin scrambling to his feet, while trying not to put weight on his left arm. He ended up knocking his crutch to the floor.

“Sorry, what a bother,” he said, attempting to retrieve it.

The uniformed man nipped over and picked itup. For a big, strong man, he was surprisingly agile and light on his feet.

“You been in the wars there, sir? That looks nasty.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It most definitely is not nothing,” Andromeda said, frowning at him. “What on earth have you done to yourself?”

“I fell, but please, not now. We have things to discuss. Miss Black, this is Miss Evans. Miss Evans, Miss Black.”

“Oh, yes, hello. So you’re the one who’s been trying to help Sirius?”

“I suppose I am, but we’re not having much luck so far.”

“So I heard. I thought Ted might be able to help, as well, I hope you don’t mind.”

The man rubbed his hand against his trousers, before offering to Lily.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Evans. I’m Ted Tonks, but ‘bout everyone calls me Tonks.”

He had a broad Cockney accent, and Lily wondered what he was doing in the company of Andromeda Black. They seemed unlikely associates.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking Ted along, Mr Lupin, but there isn’t anyone who knows more about what’s going on at BP than he does.”

Lupin, who had evidently given up trying to stand, shook Tonks’s hand.

“That’s fine, of course. Just… well, I think we should keep this fairly quiet. I’m starting to worry that I don’t know who to trust.”

“Right you are, sir,” Tonks said, tapping the side of his nose with his finger.

“Please, please don’t call me sir,” Lupin said, sounding quite distressed about it. “I… I’m not… just… well, Remus, or Mr Lupin is fine.”

“Yeah, right then, Remus it is. And I won’t say nothing.”

He sat down at the table as the woman brought over the tea things. He kept silent in front of her, and Lily suspected that he knew the effect this voice would have on the shop’s proprietress.

Lily poured tea for them, while Lupin gave a quick summary of their progress so far. She noted that when Lupin mentioned the magazine, he didn’t need to explain to either of them why he suspected that the magazine didn’t belong to Black. They both knew, evidently. Lily could see why Andromeda might know, but she was surprised about Tonks. She wondered exactly how close the pair were.

“So, how can we help?” Andromeda asked.

“We thought you might be able to help us identify the real spy, or whoever it was that framed Sirius. You’ll be able to see things from a different perspective, things we might have missed.”

Lupin turned to Lily, inviting her to continue.

“We thought that maybe the real spy framed Black because they were under suspicion and needed to divert attention. So we were wondering if you’d noticed anyone, any man or woman, who seemed unusually anxious in the days before he was arrested, but has seemed more relaxed since.”

Andromeda turned immediately to Tonks.

“Does that bring anyone to mind, Ted?”

He was silent, frowning slightly, for a few moments.

“Not sure. The boys in hut eight… they’re all pretty tense right now. But that’s… there’s reasons. Work reasons.”

He was silent a little longer.

“There’s a few with girlfriend or boyfriend troubles. Nothing too unusual. There are some with money trouble.”

“That might be significant,” Lupin said. “Perhaps they might be persuaded to do something which would be otherwise out of character.”

He went on to list several men who had problems with money, along with one woman.

“You seem to know rather a lot about the people at BP,” Lily said, wondering what he knew about her.

“Yeah, well, people don’t see me, like. I’m just the bloke what looks after the machines. I come and I go and nobody thinks nothing of it. They says stuff in front of me. Like the toffs in their fancy houses who says all sorts in front of the servants like they don’t have ears, right love?”

“It’s all true,” Andromeda added. “Nobody pays the slightest bit of attention to Ted. It’s like they think he’s deaf or something.”

“Or stupid, is more like,” he said. “A man can’t have a brain if he doesn’t talk proper or have the right bits of paper or the right letters after his name.”

Lupin nodded at that.

“Well, we appreciate your help on this. You probably know more about the BP staff than the rest of us combined.”

“I’m not sure how much that helps, though. I can’t think of anyone who’s seemed less anxious since the arrest. A couple have been more anxious though. You’d have noticed Pettigrew, for example. He’s got really twitchy.”

“Sirius was his friend. It’s no wonder he’s upset.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s just that. I saw him, last week, talking to that bloke… what’s the name now. A Russian name. He keeps telling everyone his father’s related to the last Tsar. No idea if it’s true.”

“Dolohov,” Andromeda said. “Antonin Dolohov. He works up at the main house. One of Riddle’s men.”

“Oh, yes,” Lily said. “I know the one. He’s a friend of a friend. But I can’t think why he’d be talking to Pettigrew. Lupin, do you know?”

“I don’t know Dolohov, but it does seem odd. If you mean he’s a friend of Snape, then he’s unlikely to be a friend of Peter.”

Lupin picked up his pencil and made a few markings in his notebook.

“I really can’t believe that Peter would have anything to do with it, but I do see your point. I’ll give it some thought. Is there anyone else?”

“It’s not exactly what you was asking, but… there were an unholy row the day Black got arrested. Well, maybe not a row. Riddle were having a good go at someone for screwing something up. Calling him incompetent, an imbecile, useless, you get the picture. I didn’t recognise the voice of the poor sod he were having a go at. But I’ll tell you what, your friend were there. Snape. He weren’t the one in trouble, he were trying to calm things down, I think.”

“Oh.”

Lily wondered exactly what Severus knew, and what he was involved in. They’d once been so close, but now it was as if she didn’t know him. When she’d first arrived at Bletchley, they’d seen a bit of each other, but once he’d been assigned to work with Riddle, they’d drifted apart.

“I keep wondering if I should talk to Severus, but then… I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t trust him,” Lupin said. “He and Sirius… there was obviously some history when they were at school.”

“Potter, Black and Pettigrew bullied him at school. That’s what the _history_ is,” Lily snapped, instantly defensive.

“That… that doesn’t entirely surprise me,” Lupin replied.

“Oh, you’re not defending your friends?”

Lily still couldn’t keep the anger from her voice. Lupin shook his head in response.

“I remember Sirius commenting on Snapes accent when he first arrived at the school. That was hardly Snape’s fault, but Sirius had obviously given him a hard time over it. He… he can be thoughtless sometimes and he’s no angel, I can’t deny that. But he’s still a good man and doesn’t deserve to be in prison, as you’ve said.”

“That’s Sirius all over,” Andromeda added. “He’s good-hearted, which says something when you consider what his mother’s like, but he doesn’t think about how his actions affect others. He’s always been impulsive. Always getting into things. He got away with it when he was younger, because he looked and sounded like a little angel. You know he had the most lovely soprano voice as a boy?”

“He mentioned it.”

“Well, he was Aunt Wallie’s little darling, could do no wrong. Poor Reggie was always in his shadow. He was such a shy child compared to Sirius. But when Sirius’s voice broke, she decided Reggie was her favourite. Always criticising Sirius, saying what a horrible voice he had and what an awful boy he was. Then when he was sixteen… well you know about that, obviously.”

Lily took a moment to realise that she meant the reason they knew Black would never be interested in a magazine full of barely-clothed women.

“He never talked much about his family to me,” Lupin said.

“That doesn’t surprise me. What sane person would, with a family like ours.”

She glanced across at Tonks and he put his big, grubby hand over her perfectly manicured one on the table.

“Things will work themselves out, love,” he said, as she dropped her head forward, looking suddenly miserable.

Lily hoped her face didn’t show her surprise. She’d wondered about their association, but hadn’t imagined anything like this.

“What’s happened?” Lupin asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Only that somebody told my sister about us, and she wrote to our parents.”

“Oh, oh my. Are they very upset?”

“Mother’s written several enraged letters, calling me… well, all sorts of things that I won’t repeat. Father… I don’t know. I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“He’s got to get through me first. And he won’t. I won’t let him get to you, treacle.”

“You don’t know what he’s like, Ted.”

“Me and the boys will make sure you’re alright, I promise. And he’d also have to get past a flock of angry Wrens. I wouldn’t want to take those girls on.”

“I just… I know. But just the thought of him coming here… I won’t go back, I won’t.”

“It’s alright, treacle. You’re alright with me.”

He put a hand on her back now, and she looked at him directly, not just a glance. She looked truly frightened for a few moments, before the cool expression returned to her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just thrown me, feeling like… like I could end up back there… I’ll never…”

She paused, shaking her head, while Tonks put his arm right around her shoulders, ignoring the glare from the woman working behind the counter. After a few moments, Andromeda continued speaking.

“I just can’t believe someone would… well of course I can believe it. But I just don’t know who it was. From what Narcissa said, she wasn’t just reporting a rumour based on someone seeing Ted and I talking. She knew… well, things that only a fairly close circle knew.”

“You’re one of the ones we thought about, you know,” Ted said, looking at Lupin. “But we don’t believe it were you, obviously.”

Lupin shook his head.

“So, what do we do next?” Tonks asked.

“Probably just try and think things over, see if anything else occurs to you. Miss Evans, do you have any other ideas?”

“Dolohov, you said you saw him talking to Pettigrew. Have you seen any other odd meetings? People you wouldn’t expect to meet each other?”

“Well, Dolohov, I do see him talking to people, looking shifty, like.”

“How do you mean, shifty?”

“Like they ain’t supposed to be talking. Like they don’t want people to see them. When they see it’s just me, they don’t seem worried, but maybe there’s others what they don’t want to know.”

“So, who, for example?”

“Well, there’s a bloke, don’t know his name, one of Black’s… you know… I seen him talking with Dolohov. He didn’t look happy.”

“Dolohov?”

“The other bloke.”

“Maybe they’re…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. But now… you got me thinking. Because I didn’t think Dolohov’s… one of them. He’s always seemed like he liked girls, you know.”

There was a pause in the discussion, before Andromeda spoke.

“Blackmail?”

“Do you mean Dolohov blackmailing the other bloke? Lily said. “Surely that’s getting a bit… paranoid?”

“You’re probably right, sorry,” Andromeda said. “I… my mind tends to jump to the worst sometimes.”

“It’s a thought, though,” Lupin said. “I… it doesn’t seem likely… no, but still…”

He looked down at his notebook and made a few incomprehensible scribbles.

“I won’t dismiss any theory when we have so little to go on,” he added.

“Yeah, alright, I’m with Remus on this one. We ain’t got nothing, so we don’t chuck any cards out. And I’ve seen other blockes what work for Riddle having little chats… you know, shifty-like. So maybe… maybe we think about that.”

“Gathering information for park security?” Lily asked. “That’s what Riddle’s in charge of. Maybe they are looking for anyone who might.”

“Like he’s got people spying on each other, you mean?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Lily said.

“I don’t see how this fits with Sirius,” Lupin said. “But… but it’s something. Do you see any pattern? It’s the patterns that hold the key.”

They sat and discussed Riddle’s men for a while, no obvious patterns emerging, but there was something there. They all seemed to feel it. Eventually, they agreed to note any meetings between Riddle’s men and anyone unexpected, and meet again in a couple of days to see if they could see anything.

Finally, Ted looked at the clock on the wall, and jumped abruptly to his feet.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go. Supposed to be looking at old Dumbles’s car this morning. You’ll be alright, treacle?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’ll just go home and sleep. I hate these shifts.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek, winked at the woman behind the counter and was gone before the others were on their feet.

Lily got to her feet as well.

“I’ve got a shift in an hour, I’d best get ready. Mr Lupin, what about you?”

“Yes, I’m on the midday shift as well.”

He began struggling to his feet as well.

“Are you sure you are alright?” she asked, noticing the way he winced as he straightened himself up.

“Yes, absolutely fine.”

He reached for his crutch, accidentally knocking it to the ground in the process.

“Oh, bother.”

He leaned down to pick it up, and as he did, he brushed his left arm against the table. He drew in a sharp breath and fell back into his seat.

“Mr Lupin?”

“Remus?”

He was sitting in the seat, eyes closed, face sheet-white and twisted in pain. His breathing was slow, hissed out between clenched teeth in an obvious effort to control himself.

“Remus, you are most definitely _not_ alright. You need to see a doctor.”

“No I do not,” he snapped. “I’ve had enough of doctors to last a lifetime.”

He took another breath, slow and tight, then released it with a hiss.

“Alright, Mr Lupin, but… you do need to tell us what’s the matter.”

Andromeda glanced at Lily with a frown, but Lily gave a small shake of her head, and Andromeda gave her a nod.

“It’s just that my arm is sore. It will be fine in a moment. I just jarred it when I fell.”

“How did you fall, Mr Lupin?”

“It’s silly. I fell on the stairs. Just fell forwards then slid down. It wouldn’t be so bad, but the stairs are so steep and narrow, it’s an attic room. The steps to the first floor are alright but the attic stairs are…”

His voice trailed off.

“Oh, that does sound… well, that sounds to unsuitable for you. Why do you have an attic room? Can’t they find you something better?”

She waited for him to reply, but he just sat, staring forward.

“Mr Lupin?”

“Sirius… he had his faults, but he… he was so generous. When I first moved in, I had been allocated the attic room, while he had the much larger room on the first floor. He insisted we swap. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“That was very kind of him.”

“Yes, but… I could never have afforded his room. He just said that was fine, and he would keep paying for his and I could pay for mine, but he’d take the attic room, which is horribly poky and has such dreadful stairs. That was the very first day we met… he just has that kind of heart. For all his flaws, he thought nothing of doing that for a stranger.”

“So, now, Mr Lupin? Does that mean you’ve had to move into the attic room, now he isn’t there to pay?”

“Yes… Mrs Umbridge, the landlady, she never liked me. As soon as Sirius was not there to pay, she had me out of that large room on the first floor and into the attic, but… well, that’s not it.”

Andromeda, who had stood silently watching the conversation, suddenly spoke.

“So on the records, wherever they are kept, it will say that Sirius Black had the first floor room, and Remus Lupin the attic room?”

“Precisely.”

“Oh, so that means… do you think that the false evidence that was planted… it wasn’t meant to get Black arrested. It was meant to get _you_ arrested?”

“That’s what I’m wondering now. But… it still doesn’t make sense”

“It would explain the magazine, Mr Lupin. It wasn’t intended to look like Black’s magazine, but yours.”

Lupin sat, a puzzled look on his face. Andromeda gave Lily a look, a slight narrowing of the eyes, half frown.

“Perhaps,” she said.

“I just can’t…,” Lupin said. “Well, why me?”

“I have to say, Remus, but it makes a whole lot more sense to frame you rather than Sirius. I mean… I don’t mean to be unkind, but you aren’t someone with wealth or fame. Most of Sirius’s family may not care about him, but the scandal has been huge anyway. And, of course, James has written to his father to try and get the whole thing sorted out.”

“Yes, but his father’s in India. What can he do from there?”

“You do know who his father is?”

“He owns a tea plantation, doesn’t he?”

“He owns a dozen tea plantations, if not more. And a lot more besides. Sugar, cotton, jute… and then manufacturing. Factories, refineries… he’s one of the wealthiest men in India. And he’s very fond of Sirius. He and his wife helped Sirius when things turned bad for him with his parents. He’ll write to anyone who’s everyone, and even if Sirius was guilty he’d have him out of jail, I think. But the only problem is that it’s so dashed slow with him being so far away.”

“Oh, oh, I didn’t realise, Miss Black. I mean… I knew there was money…”

“What I don’t understand is why you didn’t ask James to help you in the first place.”

“Oh,” Lily said, blushing slightly. “That would be my fault. I didn’t want to work with him. He’s so…”

Lily tried to think of a word that was both polite and accurate.

“Yes, he is rather,” Andromeda said, clearly understanding Lily. “He’s a spoiled brat, definitely. But one with a good heart.”

“So what does that all mean?” Lily asked. “We’re completely on the wrong track, and someone was trying to frame Mr Lupin.”

“I don’t see that it changes anything,” Lupin said. “we still don’t know the spy. Only now I feel worse, because an innocent man is in jail because of an act of kindness.”

“That’s not your fault, Mr Lupin.”

“I know. It’s just… this is all so wrong, and I feel like we are missing something.”

“Well, we can meet again in a couple of days. Maybe Ted will notice something.”

“Alright.”

Lupin nodded, then once again began rising to his feet. Lily grabbed his crutch and handed it to him.

“Are you absolutely sure that you are alright, Mr Lupin?”

“Oh, yes, it really is nothing.”

Lily watched him as he began to move slowly towards the door. He was so obviously in pain she could have slapped him in frustration at his stubbornness. She glanced across at Andromeda, who seemed to share her concern.

“I have a couple of things I must do before my shift,” she said. “I will see you there, Mr Lupin. Miss Black, it was very nice to meet you and Ted. We will talk soon.”

She gave Andromeda a nod, before glancing at Lupin, and Andromeda gave her the smallest of nods back.

Outside the tea shop, Lily headed briskly towards the park itself. For once, she was hoping the Potter was there, and that she could speak with him before her shift started.

When she reached the hut, she could see Pettigrew was slouching in the doorway of Potter’s office. That probably meant that he was in. She stood and waited nearby, glancing back at the doorway, expecting Lupin to walk through at any moment. She knew he wouldn’t – it would take him a lot longer than that in his state. But she still felt nervous regarding what she was about to do.

Finally, Pettigrew slouched away, looking annoyed. She walked up to his office door and saw him looking at papers on the desk. To get his attention, she knocked.

“The lovely Miss Evans, how absolutely delightful to see you. Come in, come in.”

He face lit up in a huge grin and he stepped around the desk to offer her his chair. There was only one in the office, which was little more than a cupboard with a chair and desk which looked like it could have come from a school. He closed the door then motioned again to the chair. Reluctantly, Lily sat, while he perched himself on the edge of the desk, still grinning widely.

“How may I be of service to you, Miss Evans.”

Lily looked down at her hands. Normally she would be rolling her eyes and cutting him off by now, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that right now, when she was about to ask a favour.

“Mr Potter, I wondered if I could speak to you about Mr Lupin.”

“Oh, Remus. Yes?”

He looked puzzled.

“I’m concerned about him, Mr Potter.”

“Concerned?”

“I spoke to him today, and he… he said he fell on the stairs at his lodgings. He’s got the most awful bruise. Have you seen it?”

“No, no I haven’t. I saw him yesterday, but he was fine then. Well, as fine as he ever is. You know what he’s like.”

“Well, yes. He’s been looking worse lately, and then today… well he has this terrible bruise on his face. And he’s only using one crutch because he’s hurt his arm, but he won’t admit it.”

“Oh. He can be quite stubborn about things like that. He doesn’t want to be thought of as an invalid.”

“The thing is, he said that he had to move into the attic room at his lodgings. He said that Mr Black had swapped with him so he was only on the first floor, but now… now he couldn’t afford the first floor room so his landlady made him move to the attic room and he fell on the stairs.”

Potter was leaning forwards now, listening to her with a frown on his face.

“She really is not pukka, that Umbridge woman. Fancy making a man on crutches climb those attic stairs. She’s really crossed the line of the ball there, what?”

“I’m sorry, Mr Potter, I’m not sure I understand you.”

“Pukka? Oh, sorry, like in polo. You don’t cross the line of the ball. Not pukka.”

Lily took a breath. He really was the most frustrating individual.

“Mr Potter, what are you wittering on about?”

He threw back his head and laughed.

“Oh, Miss Evans, you are just marvellous. Polo, it’s a game, on horseback, you know? I must take you to a game, but there’s nothing much on right now, what with everything. Riding perhaps. Do you ride, Miss Evans?”

“I ride a bike.”

“No, no, horses, you know. Do you ride horses?”

“And where would I have learned to ride a horse in Cokeworth?” she said, crossing her arms in front of her body.

“Cokeworth? That’s where you’re from. Never been there. What’s it like?”

Lily scowled at him, but he wasn’t taking the hint.

“There’s a steel mill. You know, a factory? Big chimney? Coal smoke over everything?”

“Oh, how fascinating,” he said, with no evident sarcasm whatsover.

“I can assure you that it’s not.”

He laughed again, loud and grating.

“Oh, oh, Mummy and Daddy will just love you. You have to meet them. Must come to India with me, when all this is over.”

“Certainly not, Mr Potter. And I very much doubt you parents will love me. I’m sure what they’ve got in mind for you is that you’ll find some nice posh deb to join in their garden parties and… whatever it is you posh people do.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure that they do,” he said, his smile wicked. “But my father couldn’t very well complain, you know. Would make him quite the hypocrite. Married an Anglo-Indian girl. Never knew her father, but her mother was a servant. Died when she was five and she grew up in an orphange after that. Worked as an office receptionist, but she was a bright girl, ended up doing all the books for ther one of my grandfather’s factories. That’s where my father met her. Parents threw a blue fit when he said he was going to marry her, but they came around.”

“Oh.”

Now that she looked at him a little more closely, Lily could see that perhaps he wasn’t entirely English. His uncombed hair was black, eyes brown and skin a little darker than usual. It made his teeth seem all the more white when he smiled.

“So you see, Miss Evans, any objections that my father has to me marrying my Yorkshire angel fade away when you consider that.”

“Mr Potter,” she said crossly, “I have come here to discuss my concern for Mr Lupin. Not marriage.”

“Oh, oh yes, my apologies. Got rather carried away. You’re friends with Mr Lupin, aren’t you. I see you talking with him sometimes. Hope he’s putting in a good word for me, eh what?”

She decided that the best approach was to ignore his wild tangents and stick to her point.

“He’s injured, Mr Potter. I don’t know what he’s done, but there’s something… he’s done something to his arm. He’s in pain. And he’s refusing to see a doctor.”

“Oh, that would be right. Quite the lone wolf is our Mr Lupin, ha ha, never wants any help, even when he really needs it. Always plays his cards close, what.”

“I thought, maybe if you spoke to him, he might consider it?”

“Pehaps.”

Potter’s face went serious.

“Padfoot was always best at that,” he said.

“Padfoot?” she asked.

“Oh, oh, Sirius. What’s happened, it’s wrong. He would never do something like that.”

“I know. That’s what I’ve been discussing that with Mr Lupin. We’ve been trying to figure out what actually happened, since we don’t think he would do that either.”

Potter’s face brightened and he gave her a dazzling grin.

“You don’t?”

She shook her head and watched as his face turned serious again.

“So, Miss Evans, what makes you sure? I mean, I know him, he’s my brother in all but birth, really. But what’s your reason?”

Lily began to explain, and before she realised it, she was outlining the whole story, although she left out Pettigrew, somehow she didn’t want to mention his suspicious behaviour to his friend. Potter shut his mouth for once and actually listened to her, leaning forward, watching her with an intense gaze. 

“You have been busy,” he said, once she had summarised their progress, or lack of it. “Padfoot would be… well, quite touched that you’ve put in so much thought. I mean, I wrote to Daddy, but he’s so far away. I sent several letters over a couple of weeks, in case the ship got torpedoed or something, you know. But I feel so damned useless, knowing he’s there, in jail, not knowing what will happen.”

“Have you visited him? Or been able to write to him?”

“Haven’t allowed it. Need Daddy to knock some heads together – once he does that, I’m sure it will be fine. But until then, he’s on his own.”

Lily nodded, wondering what it must be like, sitting in a cell, knowing you were innocent, wondering whether you would be released or executed for treason. It was odd, she realised, to have shifted her thinking of the man so much that she actually felt sympathy for him, but the Black she had heard about from Lupin was a different man.

“Mr Potter, I need to start my shift soon, so I must go. But please, would you talk to Mr Lupin and see if you can convince him to see a doctor? And, perhaps, is there any chance you could do something about his landlady? Or somehow arrange things so that he doesn’t have to climb the stairs to the attic room? It’s just… it’s not right.”

Potter nodded his head.

“I’ll do my best, Miss Evans. Not sure I’ll have much luck getting our Mr Lupin to a doctor, but I can certainly do something about the room. A quite word and a few pounds to the detestable Mrs Umbridge should do the trick.”

“Yes, I suppose it will. And please… don’t tell Mr Lupin I told you all this, will you? He won’t be happy about it, I’m sure.”

“Of course, Miss Evans,” he said, with an exaggerated wink. “Your secret is safe with me. Totally hush, hush, what.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 1942: James Potter has a quiet word with Remus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some fairly homophobic comments from Remus's inner voice in this chapter. I hope James being awesome makes up for that a bit.

August 1942

“Remus, a word, if you may.”

Remus flinched as James Potter’s hand landed on his shoulder. The voice was friendly, but the grip on his shoulder was tight. Remus knew that there was no refusing him.

“Of course, Mr Potter.”

“Oh, please, James. There’s really no need for such formalities outside the hut. Or Prongs.”

“Prongs?”

“Oh, that’s what the boys called me at school. Long story, what. But call me Prongs.”

“Oh,” Remus said, not sure he could bring himself to call Potter by his posh school nickname.

Potter directed him to one of the more out-of-the-way tables in hut 2, then watched as he sat down. He turned and walked away, before returning with two mugs of the awful, watered-down tea served in the hut.

“So, you and Pads,” Potter said, flopping himself down in the chair opposite Remus. “Sirius, that is. Padfoot. Chap who shares lodging with you, ha ha.”

He felt hemself freeze inside and hoped his face wasn’t betraying him. What did Potter know? What had Sirius told him.

“There, see, that’s what I wanted a word with you about.”

“I… I’m sorry, Mr… James… I’m not sure that I understand.”

“You’ve gone all awkward and uncomfortable when I mention him. Like you… I don’t know… want to run out of the room or… well, if you could, ha ha.”

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine. I don’t want to run out of the room, of course not. What did you want to say?”

“Well, I know it makes you uncomfortable that he’s… well, his tastes, that he prefers men and all that. He told you, I assume, or perhaps you heard from someone else. Not exactly common knowledge, but not exactly secret either, you know.”

“Ah.”

Remus was fairly sure that he was gaping like a goldfish now. Potter knew. Of course he knew. The pair were… well, Sirius had said they were like brothers. But not lovers, surely, because Potter was most definitely interested in girls, well, one, in particular, rather famously, the redhead from Yorkshire who worked in the decoding room. But Potter knew and he seemed quite unconcerned. Remus could hear his thoughts racing through his head and he felt as if he was driving one of the ambulances he’d driven back in London and the brakes had gone.

“Dashed fine chap, you know?”

“I’m sorry, I, ah… didn’t catch what you were saying.”

Potter frowned, looking concerned.

“Oh,” he said. “Well, it’s obvious that you’re found out about Padfoot, and that makes you uncomfortable. But, really, there’s no need to be. He’s still just the same chap, and a jolly good friend, I have to say.”

“I see.”

“Well, that’s the point. I’m not sure that you do. You see, Pads obviously values your friendship. You like listening to all that miserable music he loves so much, you talk to him about poetry, discuss chess, that sort of thing. Things that I find a frightful bore if I’m being honest. I like to play a game of chess as much as the next man, but I’m not going to sit there for hours and discuss Capablanca versus Botvinnik or listen to him read excerpts from Alekhine. I’d much rather be out there playing polo or cricket, what.”

“Oh.”

Remus knew that was true. Sirius had an encyclopaedic knowledge of chess masters and had been appalled to discover that Remus simply thought of it as a game he’d learned from one of his teachers when he’d expressed frustration at his school work being boring. He lent Remus magazines which analysed great games and discussed tactics and strategy, and had been delighted when Remus used those tactics to beat him. In exchange, Remus had introduced Sirius to the writing of the soldiers who’d lived through the Great War, the raw and real words of men who’d known unimaginable suffering. And of course, they’d sat and listened to records Sirius’s on grammophone over and over again.

But all that had stopped after the night that Remus didn’t want to think about. The night that they had shared an act of depravity.

“You were his friend and now he’s hurt that you don’t want to be, because of… well, you know. You probably fear that people might think you are like him, or that he might do something untoward, don’t you? But, honestly, men like us have nothing to fear from men like him. You know there are quite a few here at BP, all jolly fine chaps, you know. Just like you and me, only like boys instead of girls. Really nothing to write home about, is it? Boys instead of girls, eh what?”

Remus took a breath to steady himself. Of all the reactions he had expected, this had never been among them. Potter seemed completely unconcerned. Almost as if ‘liking boys’, as he put it, was as normal as liking girls.

“But… but,” Remus said, sure that his voice was shaking, “But isn’t it illegal?”

“Oh, rot, that’s just jolly silly. I mean, yes, there are certain things that are… well, yes, not legal, but nobody worries about that thesedays. We’re not Victorians, ha ha. Not going to throw him in Reading Gaol to languish and write epic poems, are we?

“Oh. I see. So… you don’t think there’s problem?”

“No, of course not.”

Potter clapped Remus on the shoulder.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve cleared that up. So, Friday night, there’s a party at mine. You’ll come, of course? You must, I won’t accept ‘no” for an answer, what?

Remus nodded, swallowing the rising anxiety that gripped him. Potter was indeed difficult to say no to. And so, on Friday night, Remus found himself sitting dutifully on Miss McGonagall’s chaise lounge, with a Wren either side. He managed to get away without saying a lot, as they kept up a steady stream of conversation, only about half of which he could follow, since they were speaking fast and with heavy East End accents. As far as he could tell, most of it was about people he didn’t know anyway. The only time he’d had anyting to add to the conversation was when Andromeda Black had sung a couple of Italian arias with Sirius on piano, and Remus had explained a little about opera.

He let his mind and eyes wander around the room, seeing Sirius with a glass of wine in his hand, laughing and looking beautiful. He was talking to a man that Remus didn’t know, but the way that Sirius looked at him and kept touching him on the arm on the arm made Remus’s skin crawl. Remus was sure that they were lovers and he felt his stomach churn at the thought. He tried to tell himself that it was disgust at their immoral behaviour, but he knew better. It was jealousy, simple as that. Remus was tormented by the thought that it could have been him there, if he wasn’t such a coward.

“Everything going alright here?”

Remus blinked and dragged his mind back from imagining what it would be like to be with Sirius again, to see Ted Tonks standing in front of him.

“Oh, oh, hello. Yes, everything’s fine, thank you.”

Tonks gave him a hard stare.

“And are you enjoying talking to me sisters?”

“Um… oh… what, sorry?”

The Wren on his left side nudged him gently with her elbow.

“Don’t mind Ted, Mr Lupin,” she said. “Our brother gets a bit over-protective, like.”

“Oh.”

“Leave off, Ted. He’s not bothering me or anyone, is he Millie?”

She leaned forward and looked at her sister, who immediately backed her up.

“Oh no, Mr Lupin here’s a perfect gentleman. Ever so polite.”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him rather obviously and began to giggle. Ted took the wine glass she was holding from her.

“You’ve had enough Millie. You too Daisy. And watch yourself with me sisters, won’t you Mr Lupin?”

Ted turned and walked away. Apparently he was satisfied that Remus, with his crutches and his scars and his general inability to say much when there were more than about three people in the room, was no threat to the virtue of his sisters.

“I’m sorry about me brother, Mr Lupin. He’s a bit funny with posh folk.”

Remus glanced across to where Ted was standing and talking with Andromeda.

“Well, it’s mostly posh men – he doesn’t trust them. Probably on account of what Dromeda’s told him.”

“Oh… but, well, I’m not posh, you know.”

“Course you are. You talk all proper. And you’ve been to university.”

“No, no I haven’t. I worked in a bank after I left school.”

“Oh,” Millie said. “I thought all of you boffins went to university.”

“Mostly, I think. But a few of us didn’t.”

“So how’d you get here, then.”

“I… I’m not quite sure. Got recommended by someone who knew I was good at crosswords and chess and whatnot.”

“Mille here wants to go to university. She wants to be educated, have letters after her name and all. Wants to be posh.”

“I don’t. Not posh. I just want something different than a life married to some bloke what works on the docks and having ten children.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, if it’s what you want. But I don’t.”

“Well, I think it’s commendable that you want to attend university, Miss Tonks. Perhaps you might talk to Dorcas Meadowes?”

“Who’s she?”

“She works in hut five. She was at university, studying classics, and now she’s one of the cryptanalysts.”

“What’s classics.”

“Ancient history. Like Latin and Greek and other ancient cultures and languages.”

“Oo, that sounds hard. Do you reckon I could do something like that? When all this is over?”

“Millie’s smart,” Tonks’s sister added.

“I don’t know, but I could ask Miss Meadowes if she would meet with you? She’s an acquaintance of mine.”

“Thanks ever so much, Mr Lupin. You’re right kind, you know that?”

Remus was saved from having to accept the compliment by James coming by to offer them more drinks. He tried to refuse, but it didn’t seem to work. All three found themselves with glasses of beer.

“How come you never went to university, then, Mr Lupin?” Millie asked when James had left them. “Didn’t you want to?”

“Oh, I never considered it. It wasn’t for boys like me.”

“How do you mean? You must be right clever, to do what you do. And you talk proper.”

“No, no, I’m really not the sort to go. I never expected to.”

“But did you want to? Wanting to go is not the same as not expecting it. I mean, I weren’t expecting to go, but now I know that people do, well I want to. But it still don’t mean I expect to. I expect to have to put up a fight to go, that’s what I expect.”

Millie’s free hand was clenched in a fist and her other hand gripped her glass tightly. Her eyes were intense, burning into him, challenging him, daring him to say that she was just a girl, and a Cockney girl at that, and that she shouldn’t want things that were above her station in life. 

“Oh.”

Remus didn’t know what to say. He’d never thought about what he wanted, not really. It had never mattered.

“Mum went spare when she heard,” Daisy added. “Said no man’ll want to marry our Millie if she gets herself educated. But Dad thought it was a real lark. Said Millie can get herself a proper job and support us all. And marry some posh bloke.”

“Nah, that’ll be Ted, marrying posh.”

Daisy reached across Remus to slap her sister’s arm.

“You’re not supposed to say about that,” she hissed at her sister, suddenly serious.

Millie slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Mr Lupin, you won’t say anything, will you?”

It took Remus a few moments to realise that they were referring to their brother and Andromeda Black. He’d noticed that Sirius’s cousin was often in the company of Tonks and his two sisters, but he’d assumed that had something to do with them working together in hut one. But Millie’s comment had suggested that there was quite a bit more to it. He wondered whether Sirius knew.

“Oh, no, of course not. I won’t say anything.”

“Course he won’t. Mr Lupin never does say much, do you Mr Lupin?” Daisy said.

Remus looked down at the glass of beer in his hands. That was true. He didn’t say much. He seldom thought that he had anything worthwhile to say. Except when he was with Sirius. The man had a way of making him feel worthwhile, as if he counted.

“Don’t be like that, Daisy. Mr Lupin’s just shy, ain’t you?”

He felt himself flush slightly.

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Here, you never answered us about whether you wanted to go to university. So, did you?”

“I honestly never thought about it. I didn’t think about what I wanted. Get a job and support myself, I suppose.”

“You suppose? How can you not think about what you want?”

“Well, I suppose I did, but there never seemed much point, because… I don’t know.”

Remus did know. He just didn’t want to say, in front of these girls who were so bright and cheerful and filled with the possibilities of life. He thought it was too much to want more from his life than he had. He knew he was lucky to get what he did – lucky that his stepfather had married his mother so that they were supported after his father’s failure to do so, lucky to survive polio when his brother didn’t, lucky to find himself in a home where he was well-fed and well-educated after he was no longer welcome in his own, lucky to get a job at a time when so many were unemployed. He knew he was lucky and didn’t deserve what he’d had. It would simply be selfish to want more.

“You’ve gone all quiet again, Mr Lupin. I hope we didn’t upset you.”

“No, no, of course not. You know, just as you said, I’m not one to say much.”

The girls chattered on and Remus returned to watching Sirius. He was tossing his hair now, openly flirting with the other man. He touched him on the arm, gave him a long look, then walked from the room, the other man following. Remus knew, he just knew, what was going to happen and it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. He pushed himself upright, mumbled an excuse to the girls, and moved across to the table where the drinks were, pouring himself whisky and drinking it neat.

“Alright there, old boy?”

James clapped him on the shoulder.

“Oh, yes, fine.”

“Come on, you must meet Arthur. Married to the Prewitt boys’ sister. He’s a great cricket fan, he’ll love you. Here, let me hold your drink for you.”

Remus followed. Sport had been another of Mr Moody’s initiatives to civilise his boys. He wouldn’t allow them to play football, at least not formally, but insisted that they play cricket and rugby like young gentlemen. Remus, of course, had not participated, but during summer he had sat on the sidelines as the scorer for their cricket matches. With his head for numbers, he’d developed a taste for memorising batting averages and other statistics, and maintained an interest into adulthood. He didn’t consider himself a great cricket fan, but it was certainly a useful topic of conversation at Bletchley.

“Here he is, Remus. Arthur, meet Remus, Remus, Arthur.”

Arthur held out his hand and Remus went through his usual awkward routine of balancing on his left crutch and holding the right with his elbow while he shook the offered hand. James and Arthur immediately picked up their conversation about the recent Army versus Navy cricket match at Lords. Remus nodded politely and tried to look like he wasn’t watching the door to see whether Sirius would come back, occasionally added a comment regarding one or other of the players and hoping that was enough to make him seem like he was a part of the conversation.

James and Arthur were still discussing cricket by the time Sirius returned, looking as if he’d simply nipped outside to run an errand rather than whatever it was he’d actually been doing. His companion didn’t return and Remus was relieved. He wasn’t sure he could stand to look the man in the eye.

Sirius’s return also meant the return of the music, so Remus sat quietly and listened. Although he enjoyed the music, something in it seemed to touch the melancholy parts inside of him. Perhaps it was because of his conversation with the Wrens about university, or perhaps it had been seeing Sirius with yet another handsome, whole man, but something ached inside him. He knew there were things that he wanted, but he just didn’t allow himself to think like that, did he? He didn’t feel like he he deserved them.

When the evening ended, Remus found himself once again with just Sirius, James and Peter.

“You look done in, Remus. You should have said something,” James said.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Might have had a bit too much to drink, that’s all.”

“Saw you having a good chat with Tonks’s sisters earlier,” Peter said. “Don’t fancy one of them, do you? You wouldn’t want to get on his wrong side.”

“No, no. Actually, we were discussing university. Millie wants to go, when the war’s over. I suggested that she talk to Dorcas Meadowes. I said I’d arrange that for her.”

“Of course you did,” Sirius said. “Ever helpful, aren’t you?”

Sirius didn’t quite meet his eye, but at least his tone was friendly.

“You should think of going,” James said. “When the war’s over. You’d love it, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“You would, you know, Remus,” Sirius said, this time looking directly at him. “You’d enjoy the study, but it would be good for making friends and all that as well.”

Remus shook his head.

“Why ever not?” James said. “He’d be great, wouldn’t he Wormy?”

“I’m not the type.”

“What do you mean, not the type?” James said. “You’re exactly the type.”

“I… I’m not. I don’t have any money, nobody in my family does, none of them have ever been.”

“What does your family do, then?”

Remus glanced at Sirius, who was giving him a concerned look.

“You know it’s alright,” Sirius said. “Prongs and Wormy are just the best chaps. Stood by me when things got unpleasant with my family.”

Remus shook his head.

“You don’t know. It’s worse than just the parts I’ve told you.”

“Still, it’s alright, honestly.”

Remus knew that he shouldn’t, but the weight of his secrets was weighing heavily and the alcohol had loosened his tongue.

“My family… well, my father… he was a conscientious objector in the Great War.”

“Oh, golly, that’s something you don’t want going around, isn’t it?” James said.

Remus shook his head, glancing at Sirius. Even he looked shocked. 

“Well, quite,” Remus said. “That’s why I don’t talk about it.”

“But that’s hardly your fault,” Sirius said. “It doesn’t say anything about you.”

“Doesn’t it? Bad blood, that’s what people used to say.”

“That’s rot,” James said. “People say all sorts of stupid things, doesn’t make them true, isn’t that right, Wormy?”

“They do indeed.”

Remus shook his head.

“It’s worse than that, though,” Remus went on, knowing he should shut up then and there, but somehow incapable of stopping himself.

“Worse?” Sirius asked, his voice quiet.

“My father… they allowed him to work as a medic instead of a soldier, in the end. But he got gassed, then was sent home, unfit. He wasn’t really able to work much after that and he died when I was four. The official records said it was an accident but… but it wasn’t.”

Remus could hear his voice shaking and he knew he should stop, but now he had started, he couldn’t.

“The doctor… he was concerned for my mother, so he recorded the death as accidental, but… it was suicide. He was a coward.”

“Oh, my word, Remus,” James said. “What happened to you after that? It must have been awful for your mother.”

“She remarried, we were very lucky, but my stepfather didn’t like me much. And then I got polio…”

Remus glanced across at Sirius. They hadn’t discussed their families since the day Remus had told him about the boy’s home.

“My little brother – my stepfather’s boy – died and I didn’t. He… he hated me after that and… well, eventually I went to live in a boy’s home instead.”

Remus hoped that they wouldn’t ask why, exactly. It had been bad enough that he’d had a brace on his leg and a crutch from the polio, but it had been the scars across his face, where his stepfather had slashed him with a broken bottle, that had evoked the most horror.

“I was lucky,” he went on, before James asked any more questions, “I was able to get a job when I finished school. But, you see… I’m not from the same world as you are.”

“Oh, oh I had no idea. I knew you hadn’t been to university before you came here, but… oh, gosh. I can’t imagine that.”

Remus, shook his head, turning away. He was already regretting his words – he should never had said so much.

“But when this is all finished,” James continued, apparently oblivious to Remus’s discomfort, “you really should go to university.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I don’t see why not. My mother was the daughter of a servant. Didn’t even know who her father was, mother died when she was five and was raised in a Calcutta orphanage. But she was a bright girl, worked hard, got a decent job eventually. She went on to get a degree, something very few women of her background did.”

“By that time, Prongs, she was married to one of the richest men in India. She could pretty much do what she wanted, as long as he let her.”

“Well, I suppose, but even before that, she’d never let the circumstances of her birth define her. And nor should you, old chap.”

James put a friendly hand on his shoulder and Remus looked up to see his concerned expression.

“But… but doesn’t this bother you? That my father… that I…”

“Gosh, well I think it must have been rotten for you growing up, but it doesn’t affect my opinion of you one bit. You’re a jolly good chap, Remus. Like arranging for Millie to talk to Miss Meadowes. Decent, what?”

“Oh.”

“It’s getting late, you know, Prongs,” Peter said.

“It is, too. We really should be getting home. You alright there, Remus?”

Sirius offered Remus his arm to help him stand. Remus very nearly decided to struggle to his feet without the assistance, but then he took Sirius’s arm and was rewarded with a smile. He didn’t smile back though, it was hard enough just touching him and pretending that they could be friends.

He was quiet on the walk back, listening to Sirius and Peter gently bickering about an upcoming cricket match at Lords. After Peter left, Sirius walked silently beside him for a while, before finally speaking.

“That was brave of you, saying what you did tonight?”

“Saying what? Brave?”

“About your father, what he did. Telling us. And telling James and Peter about the boys home.”

“It wasn’t brave at all. I really think I shouldn’t have said all that, really.”

“No, it was right. Holding things inside, it can eat you up. Sometimes it’s good to say things.”

Remus shook his head.

“My family,” Sirius said, looking ahead down the road even though they could barely see more than two houses ahead, “were not the best either. We weren’t poor, quite the opposite, so I never went hungry, but they weren’t nice at all. We never had much to do with my father, Regulus and I. Our mother was… is a rather nasty woman. She would be charming one moment and venomous the next. We never knew where we stood. I know what they say about stick and stones, but words do hurt.”

“They do. I know that, well, some of the things that my stepfather said… I think they hurt more than… well. That’s how I found out about my father’s death. He told me one time when he was angry. Said I should just follow his lead. So yes, they do hurt.”

“I never knew what I did wrong, with her. She’d lose her temper and be screaming at me and it didn’t seem like I’d done anything. Or Regulus had done anything. Well, when things turned particularly bad, I knew what I’d done then. But… well, in the end I concluded it wasn’t anything I did or didn’t do. It was them.”

“Oh.”

“I think, if I hadn’t been friends with James, I don’t know what would have happened. I wouldn’t have had anywhere to go. But his parents flew me out to India with James when he was heading home. Even my parents were shocked at the cost, but… well I wasn’t kidding about his father being one of the richest men in India.”

“Gosh, India, that must have been a change for you.”

“It was incredible,” Sirius said, and Remus could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “And James’s family – well, there’s really just his mother and father, but they are wonderful people.”

Sirius spoke on, so vividly that Remus could feel the heat on his skin, see the bright colours, smell the spices. He’d never imagined what it would be like to travel, but they way Sirius described it, it sounded marvellous.

“Oh, yes, it was marvellous. I had the time of my life the times I went there. I know it’s all changing, with the struggle for independence and all that – Mr Potter says that it must come, you know – but it’s such a magical place. Have you ever wanted to travel, Remus?”

“Oh, oh no, I’ve never thought of that.”

“You should. You’d enjoy it.”

“Really? I would have thought I’d find it hard, getting around and all that.”

“Yes, but your mind is open. You are curious about things, and that’s what makes a good traveller.”

“Oh.”

“You sound unconvinced, old boy, I’ll have to work on that.”

Remus wasn’t sure what to say in response to that. 

“I’ve missed you, you know, Remus. I’ve missed our friendship.”

Remus felt his stomach turn over. He’d missed everything about Sirius, far more than he wanted to admit to.

“Yes, I’ve missed our friendship too,” he said, careful not to say too much.

"I’m sorry that I… that I ruined things. There won’t be… I… I promise I won’t do anything… like that time… you know…”

“Let’s not speak of it,” Remus said quickly.

“Pretend it didn’t happen, then?”

“Yes.”

“And we go back to how things were before?”

“Yes. Do you think you can?”

“If that’s what you want. You?”

“Certainly.”

Remus certainly could. He could go back to being friends and pretending that was all. There was no point in wanting more, wanting what was shameful and impossible, wanting what he would never have, so he could go back to smiling at Sirius and squashing down the ache of _want_ inside him. Wanting things had never done Remus Lupin any good.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lupin doesn't turn up for work, and Lily is concerned. Unfortunately, that means she needs to speak to Potter again.

December 1942

As far as Lily could tell, Lupin had never made it to hut six on the day that she had met him in the tea shop with Tonks and Andromeda Black. At least, whenever she glanced into the machine room, he was not at his desk. She didn’t seem him the next day either. Try as she might to keep her mind on her work, there wasn’t really much for her brain to do except worry about Lupin or mull over the information they’d received from Tonks about Pettigrew and Dolohov, and Riddle’s men in general. Thinking of Riddle’s men made her think of Severus, and she did worry about him too on occasion, so altogether it really wasn’t the most restuful of shifts.

By midnight, it was cold, dark and raining. The thought of riding back to her digs was not appealing, and it must have been that which prompted her to go and speak to Potter again.

“Ah, Miss Evans, I get to speak with you twice in two days. What a treat indeed. To what do I owe this great honour?”

She searched his face for signs of sarcasm, but found none. There was something absurdly earnest about the man.

“You remember I spoke to you about Mr Lupin?”

“Of course, of course. Hardly likely to forget that, am I?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Well, I noticed he hasn’t been at his desk. Do you know if he is alright?”

“Oh, of course, you’d be concerned about him. I’m afraid he’s on bed rest for a week or two. Did manage to get a doctor to see him. He didn’t have much choice, because he passed out in the street while walking to BP yesterday. Silly chap, trying to get around with crutches when he’s injured like that. Anyway, someone had the sense to come and get me, so I got the doctor to him before he was in a position to refuse. Doctor thinks he’s broken his collarbone, as well as all the bumps and bruises from falling down the stairs. And he’s aggravated all his old injuries from the Blitz. Wanted him to go to the hospital, but he dug his toes in then, so I’ve got a nurse looking in on him a couple of times a day. And did get the room thing sorted – thanks for the advance warning about that one, by the way.”

“Oh, gosh. That sounds nasty.”

“It is rather. I’ve done it myself, had real firecracker of a pony a few years back. Heart of a lion but when she wasn’t happy would put me on the ground. But she was worth it. Agility was amazing, sixteen hands, yet could turn on a penny and was she ever fast. Pretty too, chestnut, coat nearly the colour of your hair. White blaze and white socks. Envy of all the boys at the club, unless she was in a mood and threw me.”

“Mr Potter, do you think you could stick to the subject at hand? I have no idea what you are on about, but it’s clearly not relevant.”

Potter laughed.

“Oh, oh, right, sorry, yes I do ramble on a bit, don’t I? So, Lupin, eh? Poor chap, nothing much to do about a broken collarbone except rest the whole arm, dashed inconvenient, if you’ll pardon my language. And makes it a bit tricky for him to get around, with the crutches and whatnot.”

“Do you think I could visit him?”

“Ah, well, I don’t think his landlady would quite approve. Young lady visiting a young man in his room, what?”

Yes, but he’s injured. Surely…”

“She wouldn’t see it that way. Rather particular, she is, and not fond of him at all. But… oh, tell you what, if you had company, that might be alright. You could ask Miss Meadowes from hut five to go with you. She’s a friend of his. Do hope there might be something there, you know, she’s a plain girl and can be a bit prickly, but she’s kind at heart and very bright. Think he’d do well with a smart girl. Wouldn’t bore him you know. Some chaps don’t mind a girl who’s pretty but has nothing sensible to say or no spirit about her. But I can’t see Lupin liking that. Maybe some encouragement, what? You could sound her out maybe?”

Matchmaking was the last thing on Lily’s mind, but if she wasn’t able to meet with Lupin, they were unlikely to make any progress on identifying the spy. So she dutifully stopped but hut five to enquire about Miss Meadowes, and was told that she was currently on the day shift.

Lily cursed under her breath. That meant that the only time that neither she nor Meadowes were working was between midnight and eight in the morning. Unless she could swap her shift, she would have to wait until Sunday to see Lupin. Swapping her shift might be possible, but she would have to speak to Potter, yet again.

Lily delayed the inevitably frustrating discussion with Potter by deciding to catch Meadowes first, so she turned up early for her next shift, planning to catch the cryptanalyst at the end of hers.

“Miss Meadowes, I wondered if I could have a word with you? It’s about Mr Lupin.”

Meadowes looked up. She looked puzzled and slightly suspicious, as if she wondered why Lily was talking to her.

“I don’t believe we’ve met?”

“I’m Lily Evans. I work in hut six. Mr Potter suggested that I speak with you.”

“Oh.”

Her face relaxed slightly but she still looked unfriendly. Perhaps some of it was her hair, pulled back in a severe ponytail which did nothing to flatter the shape of her face. Lily wondered why she didn’t do something more with it.

“Well… Mr Lupin’s unwell, or he’s injured really, fell down the stairs and broke his collarbone and I wanted to visit him. Mr Potter said that you might come with me.”

“Oh, oh no, poor Remus, that’s awful. Yes, of course I’ll come. Is he alright? When do you want to go? I’m free at the end of my shift.”

The woman’s demeanor had changed completely. The hostility had gone and she was obviously quite genuine in her concern for Lupin. Unfortunately, the inconveniece of their shifts meant that popping out to see him after the shift was unlikely.

“Ah, well, there’s a bit of a problem there. I’m on the four o’clock shift.”

“Oh, what a bother. Could you ask Mr Potter if you could start late? Isn’t he in charge of hut six? Would he let you?”

“Possibly. I was wondering about asking if I could swap shifts, but it might be alright if I started later and worked on, perhaps.”

“Oh, do ask him. He’s ever such a good friend to Remus, I’m sure he would allow it.”

Lily sighed. She’d hoped to delay talking to Potter for a bit longer. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take more of his rambling conversation.

“Alright,” Lily said. “I’ll go now, shall I?”

“You’re not fond of Mr Potter, are you?”

“Not especially, no. He practically declares himself in love with me and then diverts whatever conversation we are having onto some ridiculous sport involving horses.”

“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten about that, but Mr Lupin did mention his… infatuation. I think that these rich boys, they are so full of themselves that they assume any woman should be falling over themselves in gratitude for their attention. Can get quite nasty when they are refused.”

“He hasn’t ever got nasty, not yet. He just laughs as if it doesn’t matter and it’s just a matter of time before I’m madly in love with him. In some ways, he’s quite amusing. Equal parts amusing and irritating, perhaps.”

“If you’d like, I could come with you, when you ask him.”

“Oh, you don’t need to bother. I can handle him.”

“Alright. Will you come back and let me know how you get on?”

“Yes, I’ll see you soon.”

Lily dashed over to hut six through the persistent rain which had settled over Bletchley, finding Potter engaged in a tense-sounding conversation with the men in the machine room. She stood just out of earshot, watching as they talked. Eventually, Potter seemed finished and turned and walked to his office, closing the door. Lily hesitated, not wanting to ask a favour while he was in a bad mood, but decided that she couldn’t really wait.

She gave a gentle knock.

“Yes?” he said, in snappy tone.

She opened the door.

“Mr Potter, I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” he said, face breaking into a smile. “Sorry, I was a bit sharp.”

“I’m very sorry to bother you. Is this not a good time?”

“Any time is a good time for you, Miss Evans. I’m just… well, the team is down two of the best cryptanalysts now and people have noticed the declining quality of work. I'm doing my d… sorry, my best, but it’s not good enough, apparently. Had to pass on the message.”

He gave her a smile again and Lily noticed that it didn’t reach his eyes. Lily realised that it was the first time she’d ever seen him not looking cheerful. It bothered her for some reason. Whatever else was going on, she could rely on Potter to have a huge smile and tell her that he adored her, and then he would laugh off her rebuff as if it was nothing.

“Oh… oh, well I’m sorry. That must be hard.”

“Yes, they’re my friends, but… in some ways, I suppose, they aren’t quite my friends any more. Don’t like this being in charge, you know, having to tell them that the up-highs don’t think some of them are pulling their weight. Worst of it is that I don’t think they are wrong.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I… please don’t repeat that, not pukka to go complaining about your men like that. What is it you wanted to speak to me about?”

“I spoke to Miss Meadowes, and she will come with me to see Mr Lupin, but she’s on the day shift. She asked if we could go once this shift finishes, but, well…”

“Ah, I see the problem. You’re about to start yours, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t do any harm if you started a bit later this evening. Would six be alright? Or seven? I’m sure I could square it with Mrs Weasley.”

“Thank you, Mr Potter. I’m ever so grateful. I can work later. There’s sure to be a spare desk, there’s usually at least one girl down with a cold or something.”

“Don’t worry about it, Miss Evans. It’s not like we are churning out lots of cribs for you to handle anyway.”

Lily reported her success to Meadowes and they met outside hut five at four o’clock. Meadowes was tucked into a heavy coat in an unflattering shade of brown. It was too large for her, but it looked warm and Lily was slightly envious, as she had bought herself a fashionable but not quite so cosy coat when she’d first arrived at Bletchley.

They walked to Lupin’s largely in silence. Both had umbrellas, which meant they couldn’t walk too close to each other and the footpaths were busy with Bletchley staff walking home from the day shift.

Mrs Umbridge was not delighted to discover that her tenant had two young women visiting, but she let them in and ungraciously pointed them up the stairs. They found Lupin sitting up in bed with a book in his lap. He looked pale and tired, and the bruising looked even worse than when Lily had seen him a couple of days previously, but his face lit up with a warm smile when he saw his visitors.

“Oh, Miss Evans, Miss Meadowes, how kind of you to come.”

“Miss Evans said you’d broken your collarbone falling down the stairs, Lupin.”

Lily was taken aback at Meadowes’s rather abrupt greeting, but Lupin seemed unconcerned.

“I may have – the doctor wasn’t certain. It’s really nothing to worry about.”

“Only you, Lupin, would say that a broken collarbone is thing to worry about.”

He gave a small laugh at that.

“Honestly, I’m really just feeling a bit silly. I should have been more careful.”

“We passed the stairs attic stairs on our way to your room,” Lily said. “It’s a wonder you were able to get up and down them at all.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t break your back,” Meadowes added.

The comment seemed to hit Lupin like a slap. His face dropped and looked away.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “I probably was.”

Meadowes went silent at that as well, and Lily was left to pick up the conversation. She began giving him an update on the comings and goings in hut six. She couldn’t say anything about the work – even if she’d known anything much, which she didn’t, they weren’t allowed to discuss what they did outside their own huts. But she told him of Potter’s complaint that he was down his two best cryptanalysts, and Lupin just looked sadder.

“It’s just so frustrating, being stuck here able to do nothing,” he said. “All I can do is think about the things I should be doing, that I could be doing if I hadn’t been so stupid.”

“You can hardly blame yourself for falling.”

He gave a slow sigh, looking down at his hands. Lily glanced across at Meadowes, wondering what to do with the awkward silence, but then Lupin looked up again, his face brighter.

“I’m sorry I’m not feeling terribly talkative, but perhaps you wouldn’t mind putting a record on the grammophone for me. I’m really supposed to stay in bed unless I absolutely have to get up, so I haven’t listened to any music.”

“Oh, jolly good idea, Lupin,” Meadowes said. “I’d love to listen to something. I’ve heard so much about this famous grammophone.”

She was on her feet and looking through a pile of records before she had even finished speaking.

“What should I put on? I hardly know where to start.”

“Miss Evans, what do you like to listen to?” Lupin asked.

“Oh, I don’t know really. I listen to songs on the radio, but I don’t know much about music.”

“Something popular then, Meadowes. That will all be in the shelf over there.”

Meadowes began looking through the records.

“Oh, lovely, there’s lots of Vera Lynn. All the latest. You’ll know this, Miss Evans, I’m sure.”

She put the record on, and Lily recognised the tune immediately.

“Oh, yes, _We’ll meet again_. I do like this one,” she said.

They sat and listened, Lily on the single chair in the room, while Meadowes perched on the end of the bed. When the record was finished, she turned it over to the other side, then picked another record fro the same shelf.

“How about this one?”

_That certain night  
The night we met  
There was magic abroad in the air  
There were angels dining at the Rits  
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square._

“Oh, this is one of my favourites,” Lily said.

They listened to the song, then as Meadowes got up to turn the record over, Lily spoke again.

“I’d never heard a nightingale until I came here. I don’t think they come up north, and there weren’t a lot of birds in Cokeworth anyway. But I heard one here, the first time I was going home from the night shift. It was magical.”

“Oh, really?” Lupin said, his face a little wistful. “That’s lovely.”

“Would you mind terribly if I put on something a bit different?” Meadowes asked after the next song finished. “There’s a piece Mr Lupin has told me about that I’d love to hear. It’s with a choir.”

“Oh, that is fine. I never minded that in church, although I’m not sure that our choir was very good.”

“Where is that Elgar you told me about, Lupin? The choral version of the Enigma Variations?”

“Oh, that shelf there.”

He pointed with his uninjured arm and she walked over to look through the records.

“There are so many, Mr Lupin", Lily said. "How long did it take you to collect all of these?”

“Oh, they aren’t mine. They belong to Sirius but he lent them to me because he had the attic room and there wasn’t much space. He’d come in here to listen to them.”

“Gosh, that was so very generous of him. I’m starting to get quite a different impression of him from the man I saw working in the hut.”

“Yes, I think that is true. I don’t think he is ever himself around lots of people. He’s either loud and a little abrasive – he can be almost rude, to be honest, or he’s pretty quiet and is very good at saying not much at all.”

“Lupin,” Meadowes said, folding her arms as she gave him a skeptical look, “Are you telling me that Black is actually shy? I find that hard to believe. He and Potter were the life and soul of the party, that time I went to Potter’s with you.”

“Well, yes, but only James is like that all the time. Sirius is… well, he’s different when we’re alone. He’s much more considered, more mature. He’s so very intelligent and knowledgable, but he also thinks about things in great depth. That kind of thinking is rare, I find. We talk for hours about poetry, or music, or mathematical theory, or just… life. There’s a lot more to him than most people see.”

Meadowes gave him a thoughtful look as she pulled another record out of its cover and placed it on the grammophone.

“You know, the first day I arrived here – I hadn’t even been briefed, I had no idea what I would be doing or what happened up at BP – Sirius played this record for me. He said that Enigma Variations should be the theme song for our work, and I had no idea at all what he was on about. Funny when I think about it now.”

They listened to the record and then several more, before Lily and Meadowes took their leave. The rain was still falling, but it was lighter and the footpaths were now empty and they could talk as they walked.

“You seem rather familiar with Mr Lupin, Miss Meadowes,” Lily said. “How long have you been friends?”

The manner between the pair had been rather odd, Lily had thought. They called each other by their last names – it was what the men generally did unless they were particularly close, but never the women. She didn’t think she had seen any romantic spark between them, but she thought that she might as well follow up on Potter’s request to find out if there was anything between the two.

“I we’ve been friends since soon after he arrived. He’s been very kind to me. I don’t have many friends here.”

“Oh. Why not?”

Meadowes turned to look at her.

“You’re quite blunt, Miss Evans, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am. But so are you.”

Meadowes smiled at her, and Lily had the feeling that she’d passed some sort of test.

“Indeed, Miss Evans. Well, the reason I’ve found it hard is because I’m not one of the girls and I’m not one of the boys. There aren’t many female cryptanalysts here. My colleagues – the other cryptanalysts – don’t see me as one of them because I’m a woman. Some of them are perfectly nice to me, but even the ones that are, well, they don’t treat me like I’m their equal, mostly. And the women are… it’s even harder with them. Mostly, I just feel like we don’t have much in common. But some of them are quite nasty about it. Make comments about how I look because I’m not pretty like they are and don’t have fashionable clothes.”

“You could do something about that, you know. Do more with your hair for example.”

Meadowes sighed.

“I suppose. But I don’t see how that would do me any good.”

“Well, the men might be more interested.”

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend, Miss Evans. I just want to make friends.”

Her tone was a little snappy, and Lily wondered why. Was it that she simply wasn’t interested at the moment, or was it because she had someone already?

“Oh, oh, I see. Is that because you and Mr Lupin are…”

“Good heavens, no. Me and Lupin? Hardly. I just don’t have any interest in having a boyfriend or getting married. Never did. Never will.”

“Really? Never?”

Meadowes shook her head.

“That’s one of the reasons I fought so hard to go to university. Wanted to do something with my life that wasn’t getting married and having children.”

“Oh. I… I mean… I know I don’t want to get married right now, but I can’t imagine never wanting to marry.”

“I suppose that’s why I find it hard to relate to the women here. I can’t imagine ever wanting to get married and all the other women can’t imagine _not_ wanting to get married.”

“Does Lupin know that? Is he… do you know if he’s interested in you though? It’s not good to lead a man on.”

Meadowes gave Lily a small smile and raised her eyebrows slightly, as if Lily had said something amusing.

“Oh, no, he’s definitely not. Lupin and I understand each other very well, I can assure you.”

“Oh, oh well, that’s alright then.”

They walked on, chatting easily about the music they had heard. Despite the oddness of her not wanting to get married, Lily found Meadowes to be perfectly decent company.

“Miss Meadowes, I’m going to the pictures on Friday, with Mary and Marlene – you know, Miss MacDonald and McKinnon, the Scottish twins who are neither actually Scottish or twins. If you would like to, you’d be welcome to join us. I admit, you might get a little bored of Mary’s tales about her latest young men, but she’s really quite a hoot. And Marlene’s a jolly good sort. Very decent. She’s quiet, but very thoughful. You’d like her I think.”

Meadowes face lit up in the first proper smile that Lily had seen from her.

“Are you sure? That’s ever so kind. Wouldn’t I be intruding though? I wouldn’t want to… they might not be too happy you’ve invited someone else.”

The smile began to fade from Meadowes’ face – she was clearly beginning to worry over nothing.

“Don’t be silly. Of course they won’t mind. It would be lovely if you could join us.”

The smile returned to Meadowes’s face.

“Thank you, then I will.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius goes for a late night motorcycle ride, and Remus worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some discussion and description of child abuse in this chapter.

Late October 1942

Sirius had been gone for hours.

They’d walked back from their shift and then quietly listened to a couple of records, but Sirius had been fidgety and irritable. He’d refused Remus’s offer to read him poetry, instead deciding to ride his motorcycle. When Remus had protested at the lateness of the hour, Sirius had shrugged and insisted that it was safer that way.

“Fewer people on the roads,” he’d said, “at this time of the morning.”

Sirius wasn’t wrong of course. There would be few vehicles on the road at two in the morning, but there was a blackout and a new moon, and those that were on the road would have their lights covered and dimmed. Worse, he knew that Sirius often rode with his lights off completely. Remus kept thinking about Sirius and his motorbike crushed under the wheels of a truck.

He should have been in bed, but Remus was still leaning against the windowsill when he heard the engine. Then he saw the motorbike come around the corner, a black shape against black, only distinguishable because of the movement. Sirius pulled to a stop in front of the house then moved around the corner, where he had the use of a garage.

Finally, Remus saw him walking back around the corner and heard him let himself into the house. Remus carefully covered the window back up and switched on the light.

There was a faint knock at his bedroom door and then it opened.

“You still up, old thing? Saw your light on. Could have sworn it was off when was outside.”

Sirius’s hair was a windswept, elegant mess and his cheeks and nose were red with cold. The brooding expression from earlier had gone – he looked relaxed, as he often did when he’d been riding his bike. Remus wondered what it felt like, the exhilaration of speed, the sense of freedom, whatever it was that put the sparkle back in Sirius’s eyes when he rode. But although Sirius had offered to take him, he didn’t think his body could manage it.

“Oh, just not ready for sleep.”

“Really? You look exhausted.”

“Don’t we all. I’m not worse than usual.”

Sirius frowned slightly, then flopped down onto the bed. Remus made his way over to the chair.

“Were you worrying about me?”

Remus turned his head away. He meant to shake his head in denial, but he knew his face would betray him. Sirius read him as easily as he read the newspaper.

“You shouldn’t worry about me, honestly, I’m indestructable.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that, Sirius. You never know.”

“Do you know how many times I fell off horses growing up? I took a lot of tumbles, I tell you, but never really had any damage. Local MFH swore I was made of rubber.”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry, Master of Fox Hounds. Mother’s family hunted - rode horses full tilt across country, chasing a pack of hounds, which were in turn chasing foxes. Reg and I would spend some of the hols there, that’s where we learned to ride. Long story, I’m not Prongs, I’ll spare you the details. But between the hunting and playing polo, lots of falling off horses. Reg had a few broken bones, as did Prongs, but I never did.”

Remus nodded, suddenly aware of how different their worlds were. He had hardly left the city, first living in Bristol, then in London, before finding himself in Bletchley. When he’d been young, he’d spent his holidays trying to avoid his stepfather. Most of the time, he’d worked, and the closest he’d got to riding was picking up manure from the horses which were still common on the streets.

“So really, you shouldn’t worry,” Sirius went on. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know, really, I’m just a worrier. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be grateful you care enough to worry, old thing.”

“Oh.”

Remus turned away and began shuffling records around, sure that he was blushing. Sirius didn’t need to know just how much Remus cared.

“Should we listen to something,” he said, hoping to distract himself and Sirius from a topic he wanted to avoid.

“Alright. What were you thinking of?”

Remus shuffled records around a bit more.

“I don’t know. I can’t quite decide.”

His thoughts were still racing around, still bringing him images of Sirius crashing his bike, and now adding in accidents involving horses. He wished that he could make the thoughts go away, but they’d been worse lately. He hated the autumn, had for a long time. There was something about the mornings that became darker, the evenings that became shorter, the smell of rotting, fallen leaves. Not that there had been many trees where he’d lived, but there was a park where he’d taken his brother and the elder of his sisters.

“You alright, Remus?”

“Oh, I’m fine, sorry, just daydreaming.”

“You’re tired. I should let you get to bed.”

“No, no I’m not. I won’t sleep. I’d rather be distracted.”

Sirius moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, next to Remus.

“Something bothering you, old thing?”

“No, just… memories. It’s the time of year.”

Sirius said nothing, but Remus could feel his eyes on him.

“It was autumn when I came out of hospital, after I had polio. I got home and everything was different. I suppose that this time of year makes me remember.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“Some things are best left unsaid.”

Remus looked away. He didn’t need to give Sirius another reason to feel sorry for him.

“Perhaps. But it’s on your mind, isn’t it? Haven’t you ever heard Prongs say ‘ _A problem shared is a problem halved_ ’? Prongs’s father first said that to me. It’s true, I think.”

“It’s not a problem, not something I need help with. It’s just the past.”

“Yes, but sometimes the past has a way of still being with us in the present, doesn’t it.”

Remus nodded, avoiding Sirius’s eyes. The memories had been locked inside him for so many years and he’d never once spoken of them. He didn’t see why anyone else would want to listen to his miserable story. But that didn’t mean that they weren’t there, just beneath the surface, making an appearance at inopportune moments and leaving Remus feeling as if he was back there in that terrace house in Hotwells.

He looked down at his hands again, before beginning to speak in a hesitant voice.

“When I came out of the hospital, the house seemed so lifeless. It wasn’t, of course, there were still five of us, my mother, my stepfather and my sisters, but they were just little, the elder was three and the younger just a baby. And it wasn’t a big house. But without Billy running around and yelling, it wasn’t the same.”

It hadn’t just been the absence of his brother, of course. It was that the presence of his stepfather seemed to have grown to fill the house with silent menace. He’d seldom spoken to Remus anyway, never referring to him by name and usually accompanying any communication with a cuff around the ears if Remus got close. But this was different, and made so much worse because Remus now had a dodgy leg and therefore no way of escaping.

“I could feel my stepfather’s anger. I knew he hated me, because I’d got sick first and passed it to my brother.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault, don’t you?”

Remus looked down at his hands.

“I know that, but it felt like my fault, still does. And it felt like my parents blamed me. Even my mother. She defended me less and less.”

“Remus, that’s… that’s horrible and it’s so unfair. It’s far to big to put on a child. But… I think that I understand what you mean. Even now, I still feel that I’m somehow responsible for Regulus. That I could have done something differently, and he’d still be alive.”

Remus looked up again and their eyes met. He gave Sirius a half-smile and then nodded in acknowledgement.

“You know, James’s mother said to me once that feeling responsible, feeling guilty like that, it’s a consequence of caring for people. If you don’t care about anyone, you wouldn’t ever feel like that, but then, what sort of a world would we live in?”

“Yes… yes, I think that is right. And I really did love my brother and my sisters. It wasn’t their fault that their father hated me.”

“Do you really think he hated you? It’s a strong word, hate.”

“I… I think he did. He certainly hated what I represented. He’d fought in the trenches and despised what my father did. He was always telling us how many Germans he had killed. Describing it too, where the bullets or the bayonet had got them, describing the wounds, how they died. It seemed as if he enjoyed it, or at least he enjoyed scaring us by telling us about it. My brother would always have nightmares after he’d told us one of his stories.”

“Oh… oh, he sounds… that’s horrible, Remus.”

Remus shrugged.

“I thought that’s how all soldiers were. One day, after he’d upset my brother, I told him that I’d rather be like my father than be a soldier like him. That… that didn’t go well, and it’s when he first mentioned my father’s… that my father… as I said before, that he took his own life.”

Remus rubbed his thumb over one of the scars on his hand. He was ashamed of his comment, even though he’d despised his stepfather. Sirius said nothing and Remus didn’t look at him, not wanting to face an expression of disgust.

“It wasn’t true, of course. Before I had polio, I wanted to join the army. I didn’t want to be like my father. I didn’t want to be a coward. But I was angry, that’s why I said it.”

“Remus…”

He felt Sirius moving closer. For a moment, he thought Sirius was going to say more, but he fell silent again. The silence drew Remus in and slowly, tentatively, he let his words fall into the space between them.

“It only got worse after my brother died… he never spoke directly to me after that, but he’d make comments to my mother that he wished it was me that had died… or that he wished I’d just go and do what my father did. She… she did try to stop him, but it didn’t make any difference.”

He took a couple of slow breaths. The room seemed to be moving around him. He felt very small, as if his spine had shrunk to the size of a matchstick and his head was precariously balanced. He could hear Sirius breathing, deep and slow, and he anchored himself to the sound.

“Then, one day he came home from the docks even angrier than usual. He began his usual shouting, but that wasn’t enough for him, it seemed. He began to throw things at me. My mother begged him to stop and my sisters were crying, but he wouldn’t. He… he hit me… he’d done that before, but this… it was different. He was so angry. Then he… then he picked up a bottle… it was one he’d thrown at me before… it had broken… he said he was going to kill me… I think he was going for my throat but he got my face… I tried to get away, to protect myself, but I couldn't...”

Remus drew a strangled breath, almost a gasp, into lungs that seemed too small.

“Someone called the police. Mostly, people minded their own business when the neighbours were fighting, but apparently this was too much to ignore. He went to jail and I went to hospital. I did go home for a while, once I’d healed a bit, but then he got out. He was still saying he wanted to kill me. So they thought it best I went somewhere safe, sent me to the boys home in London.”

“Oh, Remus, that’s… I’m sorry, what happened to you, that’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

Remus shook his head, looking down. He didn’t want to see Sirius’s face and he didn’t trust himself to speak. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he’d regretted them, knowing it was wrong to share his family’s dark secrets, but it was too late. The words could not be taken back. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You said to me, Remus, when I told you about Regulus dying, you said you were sorry and I was… I was a bit snappy with you. Said it was stupid for you to apologise when you’d done nothing. But you were very kind, and what you said… it stayed with me. When you said you were sorry that… that things had been as they had. So, I’m saying sorry now. Sorry that you had to experience those things.”

Remus took a deep breath, forcing air into lungs that still seemed too small. Sirius’s kindness was like a hand reached out to a drowning man and so he clung to it, releasing the breath and taking another. After a few more breaths, his lungs seemed to have gone back to normal, and he glanced up at Sirius, whose forehead was creased with concern.

“You alright, Remus?”

He nodded, then took another breathe before speaking.

“Sorry, yes, I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

Sirius smiled then, a gentle smile, one that made Remus feel warm. He took his hand away from Remus’s shoulder though, and Remus wanted to pull it back.

“Awfully polite, old boy, aren’t you? I can’t think of another person who could tell of such an experience, then say that they were ‘ _perfectly fine, thank you_ ’.”

Remus sighed. He wasn’t perfectly fine but, he realised, he was just about alright, and that was close enough. He smiled back at Sirius.

“Thank you for listening to me. You’ve been very kind. I generally think that it’s best not to speak of such events, but… well, somehow… talking to you feels alright. You are very good at listening you know.”

Sirius began to shake his head, as if to dismiss the thanks or the compliment, but then he paused.

“I think, perhaps, it’s because I had someone to listen to me, when I had things which were difficult to talk about.”

He frowned for a moment, as if debating whether to speak or not.

“You see,” he continued, “I think I understand, just a little bit, of what you experienced. Nothing so… so awful, but it was still hard for me, and I had someone listen to me.”

“Was that James?”

Sirius shook his head.

“No, not James. Well, he did know, but it was his mother I talked to. She was the one who listened to me.”

He paused again, looking at Remus, as if asking for permission to continue. Remus gave him a nod.

“At school, it was near the end of fifth form, there was a boy. We were caught… together.”

Sirius looked at him and Remus nodded again, acknowledging that he understood.

“They wrote to our parents and sent us both home. My mother shrieked at me about being disgusting and sent me to my father. That’s what she would do when we’d done something wrong, Regulus and I. That was his sole job as a father, punishing us. He’d take a willow switch to the back of our legs. This time… my legs were bleeding by the time he was finished. He told me that I was never to bring shame on the family again and sent me to my room.”

“Oh. That’s awful.”

“It hurt, but, at the time, I was more upset about the boy. I fancied myself in love with him. I was afraid they wouldn’t send me back to the school and I’d never see him.”

“Did you? Did you see him again?”

“No, I never did. My parents sent me back to school the following Monday, but his parents sent him elsewhere. We wrote to each other, but we were just kids. It fizzled out eventually, without us actually seeing each other. He’s married now, I hear about him occasionally through mutual acquaintances. I don’t think he’s very happy though – he’s as queer as I am… I’m sorry, I hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, me telling you this.”

“No, oh no, it’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine – Remus felt sick at the thought of Sirius and the unnamed boy. And he couldn’t pretend it was disgust, either. He was desperately jealous.

“So, anyway… I was telling you about Mrs Potter. When James found out about what my parents had said and done, he asked me to come with him over the holidays, to India. Wrote to his parents and asked them to officially invite me. So James’s father wrote to my parents. Damned hard to refuse Fleamont Potter, you know, and frankly I think that they were happy not to see me. I was certainly happy not to see them.”

Sirius gave a small smile, and Remus smiled back, although it was hardly a happy topic of conversation.

“When I was there… well, James and Mr Potter knew what had gone on, but they didn’t really talk about things. So it was just churning around inside me, everything that had happened. Then one day Mrs Potter had me come and help her in the garden and all of it just poured out of me. She was so kind. She listened to me so patiently. She didn’t judge me, she didn’t make me feel like a freak or a deviant or anything like that. It was easier after that, as if I wasn’t carrying so much around in my head. So, you see, I can understand, just a little.”

He moved his hand to Remus’s shoulder again.

“Thank you for telling me your story, old boy. You’ve had a lot of hardship and I admire your courage.”

“What? I’m not brave, not at all.”

“It seems to me that you are. You’ve kept on going through circumstances which would have made others give up.”

Remus shook his head. He’d never had a choice, he’d simply had to endure, and he saw no courage in that.

“You mentioned,” he said, changing the subject as quickly as he could, “that James and his parents knew what had happened. Does that mean that they knew about… the other boy?”

Sirius nodded.

“Extraordinary people, the Potters. Very unconventional thinkers. Mr Potter, he’s a strong supporter of Indian independence, for example. Appoints Indians, sometimes women as well as men, to roles that would normally be done by someone who was English. Now, Mrs Potter, when I talked to her, told me a story of her own. She told me that she hadn’t wanted to fall in love with Fleamont Potter, who was seventeen years her senior and English. You see, she’s Anglo-Indian and her English father had done nothing for her, not even been acknowledged on her birth certificate, and all her friends were Indian or Anglo-Indian and none of them liked the English very much. With good reason, by all accounts. But she said that love is a strange thing, you really can’t help who you fall in love with. She’d fallen in love with an Englishman, and her real friends, the ones that really counted, came to accept that. And so she saw nothing wrong with what I’d done. I couldn’t help falling in love with a boy any more than she could help falling in love with an Englishman. And, as her true friends had accepted her and her new husband, she accepted that I had fallen in love with a boy and really couldn’t ever imagine being with a girl at all. James and Mr Potter were just the same about it.”

“Oh.”

Remus was unsure what to say. It seemed impossible to him, that someone could just say “oh, well, that’s all fine, you can’t help who you fall in love with”. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? Could that really overrule all the norms of decent society? What about the law? What about the bible? Remus cringed when he remembered certain lessons from the minister who came to instruct the boys in religious education. The minister had had a strong fondness for the word ‘abomination’.

His stomach began to churn and he drew in a long breath then held it for a few moments before breathing out again. Sirius seemed to pick up on his discomfort.

“Sorry, old boy, I know that’s something we said we wouldn’t discuss. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. How about we have some music?”

Remus nodded, his throat too tight to speak. His mind was still racing with the idea that you couldn’t help who you fell in love with, and therefore there was nothing wrong with a man falling in love with another man. He’d never heard anyone say such a thing. But it did make sense, in a way. He’d clearly seen that love was not a rational thing, not like the decision to buy some item like a suit or a briefcase. People didn’t weigh up the merits and costs of different individuals and then marry the one that was the highest quality or gave the best value for money. At least, not those he considered to be decent people. Attraction and falling in love weren’t choices.

“How about this one,” Sirius said, holding a record out to Remus. “We were singing it with a little group at Oxford, just before we were called to come here. Hearing you talk made me think of it.”

He put the record on and immediately Remus heard the hushed, low tones of male voices sing the words ‘ _O vos omnes qui transitit per viam_ ’.

“It’s about enduring suffering, from Lamentations. Made me think about all you’ve been through and endured.”

Sirius looked at him with an expression of such sincerity and concern that Remus couldn’t hold his gaze. He gave a faint nod and looked down, listening as the music rose to a desperate ‘ _Attendite_ ’. If the music was louder, it would have been gut-wrenching, he thought, but Sirius was playing the music at the minimum possible volume so as not to wake their landlady.

“Who wrote it?” he asked, when the music had finished and he felt calm enough to speak.

“A Spaniard. Pablo Casals. He’s a cellist mostly, amazing player. We heard him play once, when we were visiting France. Reg adored him, wanted to switch to cello after hearing him but mother wouldn’t let him.”

Sirius sighed and Remus realised how tired he looked.

“I’m keeping you up, I’m sorry. It’s very late and we should probably sleep.”

“Gosh, yes, it must be nearly dawn.”

Sirius glanced at his watch, then stood, flicking off the light and opening the curtain. Remus could see the first shades of sunrise in the sky.

“Here, before we sleep, I must play you this. It’s perfect for watching the sunrise.”

Sirius took another record and placed it on the grammophone. The first sounds were three rising chords, repeated before a solo violin came in. The hairs on Remus’s arms stood on end as the melody rose like a bird, trilling and fluttering. The music was like the warmth of the sun on a green meadow and he closed his eyes and lost himself.

When it ended, he opened his eyes to a world that was changed, brighter than it had been before. Sirius stood completely still, looking out the window, his face serene, but when he turned to Remus, there was the trail of a tear visible on one cheek. Sirius brushed it away with his hand.

“What did you think of that, old boy?”

Remus opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it? That was Regulus favourite piece, _The Lark Ascending_. Used to practice it all the time, even when he wasn’t really good enough to play it. Drove us all crazy. Made me work out a piano reduction from the score so I could accompany him. He always dreamed of performing it someday.”

“Oh.”

“Bit sad, listening to it now, knowing he never will. I don’t normally… don’t normally play it when there’s anyone else around, makes me a bit… you know. But, I don’t know, it’s different with you. I wanted you to hear it. I wanted you to know what it means to me.”

“Thank you,” Remus said, forcing the words from a throat that had choked up. “I… I don’t know what to say. It’s… exquisite.”

Sirius nodded.

“Now, I suppose we really must sleep if we want to stay awake through our next shift.”

Remus scrambled to his feet and stood as Sirius opened the door to his room. He paused for a moment, and Remus thought he was going to say something more, but then he turned and was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music is 'O vos omnes' by Pablo Casals and 'The Lark Ascending' by Ralph Vaughan Williams. I'm pretty sure that The Lark Ascending is too long for the playing time of a 1940s records, but I love the piece so much and it just made sense to have it as Regulus's favourite music that he constantly practiced because it is just exquisite.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Potter receives some news from India.

December 1942

In the end, one week of bed rest turned into nearly three, and it was only in the week before Christmas that a pale, ill-looking Lupin appeared back in the machine room. They were three long and frustrating weeks, with no further progress in working out the spy and tensions high in hut six for reasons that Lily couldn’t quite put her finger on. Lupin’s absence was probably a part of it, based on Potter’s comments about losing his two best cryptanalysts, but there was something else. A couple of months ago, Lily would have dismissed it at None Of Her Business, but now it bothered her that she didn’t know what it was.

She continued to meet with Andromeda Black and Ted Tonks, and with Dorcas Meadowes she visited Lupin every few days. After a couple of visits to Lupin, she remembered that he’d suggested Meadowes as someone who could help try and figure out the spy, so she cautiously brought up the subject in one of their visits. Meadowes, as Lupin had suggested, had some good questions and perspectives, but they still couldn’t see any answers. Ted Tonks had a number of suspicious interactions involving Riddle’s men to report on, but none of them could see any pattern in it and, as Lupin said, the pattern was the key.

After Lily’s visits to Lupin, she became accustomed to stopping by Potter’s office to update him on how Lupin had been. Potter, in turn, would update her when he had visited, so she also visited his office on days when she hadn’t seen Lupin, to see whether Potter had anything to report. It meant that she spoke to Potter nearly every day and, somehow, even when Lupin returned to work, she still found herself talking to him. They were both still concerned about Lupin, who insisted that he was _perfectly fine_ even though he cleary wasn't. Potter's conversation was just as aimless as ever, but Lily began to find it more amusing than annoying. She found that she could get him back to the topic at hand by snapping her fingers in front of his face and saying ‘Focus, Potter’, something he found hilarious rather than offensive. There was something rather endearing in the way that he accepted his own flaws with such good grace.

But on the Monday before Christmas, something was off with him. 

“Did you hear the radio this morning, Mr Potter? I heard that the Japanese were bombing Calcutta. Do you know people there?”

“What?” he said, looking confused for a moment. “Oh, yes, terrible business.”

His words were offhand, as if he hadn’t really thought about it and still had his mind on something else.

“Is something wrong, Mr Potter? You seem distracted.”

He glanced down at the papers on his desk. Lily could see a handwritten letter there, on thin airmail paper. His fingers strayed over the page, smoothing out the creases.

“Have you had some news?” she asked.

“I…”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to say more, Lily spoke again.

“It looks as if you just received a letter, Mr Potter,” she said, pointing at the page under his fingers.

He looked down, as if he had forgotten about the prescence of the letter completely.

“Oh, oh yes, the letter. It’s from Mummy.”

Lily refrained from rolling her eyes at a grown man calling his mother ‘Mummy’.

“And she had news?”

He nodded, as if he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Was it bad news, Mr Potter?” she asked gently.

“My… my father. He’s… he died. His heart, apparently.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Lily felt her chest tighten. She’d comforted many a friend through bad news – and with the war there had been many family tragedies – but this was different. This was a man and Potter was not quite her friend. She had no idea what to say to him.

“Can I get you something, Mr Potter? A cup of tea, perhaps?”

He shook his head.

“Oh no, I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit of a shock, you know?”

He didn’t look fine, and she told him so, which at least brought a faint smile to his face.

“Why don’t you at least sit down, Mr Potter?”

He nodded then sat down abruptly, scraping the chair legs against the floor. The noise seemed loud and intrusive. Lily sat down herself, more gently. She watch James as he continued to fiddle with the letter.

“Had your father been ill?” she asked, more as a way to break the awkward silence than from any need to know the answer.

“No… well, not that I knew. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have told me if he was. Wouldn’t want me to worry when there’s nothing I can do, you know? Don’t think Mummy would have said anything either.”

“Oh. It must be hard, being so far away?”

“I’m used to it, I suppose. Was at boarding school in England from when I was eleven.”

He sighed.

“I wish I could go out there now. I don’t like to think of Mummy on her own. Well, she won’t be, of course, they have lots of friends. But there’s no family apart from me.”

“Would that be possible?”

“No, no, I don’t think so. We agreed I would stay here for the duration of the war. Safer than travelling at such a time, and my work – all of our work – is important. I can’t turn my back on it.”

Lily nodded. While not everyone was so dedicated, many of the Bletchley staff felt the same way.

“The worst of it is that when I should be thinking about Mummy and how she must feel, I’m actually being rather selfish. I’m upset that Daddy didn’t sort out the situation with Sirius before... well, you know. I was counting on him, you see, and now there’s nobody who can sort things out.”

“That doesn’t sound selfish. You aren’t concerned about yourself, you are concerned about your friend.”

James looked down again and gave a heavy sigh.

“He must hate being in prison. Not fond of feeling trapped, you know. Parents used to lock him and his brother in their rooms when they didn’t behave. So this must be very hard on him.”

“Mr Potter,” Lily said, her voice more gentle than it normally would be when correcting him, “I don’t think Mr Black would appreciate you sharing his childhood experiences with me.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I do ramble on, say any old thing that I shouldn’t. Always been a bit like that you know. Daddy is too… oh. Daddy was too… have to say that now…”

He voice caught and Lily realised that he was near tears.

“Mr Potter, would you like me to get someone for you? One of your friends?”

He shook his head.

“No, not right now. Let me… let me pull myself together.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to. It is alright to be upset. He was your father. You obviously cared for him a great deal.”

Potter stood up quickly, his chair pushed away from him, and turned to look at a collection of books on a shelf. Lily watched his back and said nothing as he studied the spines, then pulled one from a shelf and opened it, apparently at random. He stood, looking at the open book, for several minutes, before slamming it shut and returning it to the shelf. Then he turned and sat back down.

“I just don’t know what I’ll do now, about Padf… Sirius. Everything else, well it just… you get by, you know. But I can’t leave him to rot. Can’t bear the thought of how he must be suffering.”

Lily wished she could say something to reassure him, but she and Lupin had made so little progress, she couldn’t.

“Still, I suppose,” Potter continued, “he’s been in a few scrapes in his life, you know. Things have always worked out, and I daresay they will this time too. Just got to trust to the best of British luck.”

He gave another sigh, then looked up at Lily, a strained smile on his face.

“Don’t suppose you and Lupin have anything to report? Counting on you now, you know.”

Lily wasn’t sure whether he was serious or not. She hoped he wasn’t, because they weren’t getting anywhere.

“Sorry, no. It all seems a bit stuck.”

Potter’s face fell and Lily felt bad for disappointing him at such a time.

“We are still working on it though,” she said, trying to sound more hopeful than he felt. “We have some ideas, and Ted Tonks is being very helpful.”

“Oh, he’s a jolly good chap, Tonks. No fool either. Notices things without being noticed himself.”

“Yes, he does. I don’t think much happens in B.P. without him knowing.”

“Clever idea to get him involved. Not everyone would think of Tonks, but he’s probably just the man you need.”

“Oh, that was Miss Black. We, that is, Mr Lupin and I, decided to ask her, and she brought Tonks.”

Potter gave a wan smile.

“Ah, yes, they make quite a pair.”

“They seem like a rather unlikely couple. Do you know if they’ve been together long?”

“A while now,” Potter said, an expression of concentration on his face. “A couple of years, I think. Pretty discreet about it, so it’s a bit hard to tell. Of course, now it’s all over B.P. and quite the scandal. Don’t really see why, but, you know, the Blacks are a rum lot.”

Lily thought it was rather obvious, with Black the daughter of a titled aristocrat and niece of a controversial Member of Parliament, and Tonks an army engineer from Poplars.

“On the subject of romantic attachments,” Potter went on, “Any sign that Miss Meadowes is keen on Remus? I can’t get anything out of him on the subject.”

Lily shook her head.

“I really don’t think there’s anything. Dorcas is quite adamant that there isn’t. She appears determined to never get married. And I don’t think there’s anything on Mr Lupin’s side either.”

Potter sighed.

“That’s what I’ve concluded too. Shame, I really would like to see him with a nice girl. Someone who’d look after him, you know?”

“I’m not sure Mr Lupin would be all that keen on someone looking after him. He seems quite relucant to accept any help.”

“Oh, didn’t think of that, but you’re quite right. She’d have to be quite a strong-willed girl, bit of a stubborn streak, what? And clever, of course. Nobody like that among your friends, is there? Anyone he’s shown a particular interest in?”

“I can’t think of any girl that Mr Lupin has shown a particular interest in. He’s always polite and friendly enough but…”

Lily tried to think of any occasion where Lupin had given an indication of the type of girl he might like or shown any kind of preference for one girl or another, but she really couldn’t.

“Yes, that’s him exactly. Perfectly correct in his manners but there never seems to be any girl who’s caught his eye. Just doesn’t seem like he’s…”

Potter paused, a thoughtful look on his face. 

“Oh, I’m such an idiot,” Potter said.

Lily raised her eyebrows at him. She wasn’t quite sure what to say – on any other day, she would have agreed with him, but she was reluctant to be so flippant when he’d just lost his father.

“In your discussions with Remus,” Potter continued, “he must have talked to you about Padfoot, at least a little, yes?”

“Quite a lot, actually. I feel as if I know him quite well, even though I don’t think we ever exchanged more than a few words.”

“And did you notice anything in what Remus said about him?”

“Well, I’ve got quite a different impression of him compared to what I knew before. I can’t say I liked him much, initially, but there’s obviously a lot more to him, from what Mr Lupin said… oh… OH…”

Potter was watching her intently and she felt herself blush as she finally understood.

Lily had never heard Lupin sound particularly keen on any _woman_ , that was true. The way he talked about Black, though, was another matter. Lupin never looked more animated than when he spoke of Sirius Black. His eyes lit up, his face appeared younger and less care-worn, his lips carried a hint of a smile even if there wasn’t really anything to smile about.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Potter said. “But he’s so stiff upper lip about things. Jolly hard chap to read.”

“Do you think… do you think they were…”

Lily wasn’t quite sure how to put it, but Potter caught her meaning.

“Hmm, not sure about that. Think I would have noticed if they were. Known Padfoot a long time, shared a dorm with him for seven years, know him pretty well. So… no. Still, don’t think it would take much. Lupin probably needs a bit of a push, he’s still got some rather old-fashioned ideas. But Sirius thinks the world of Remus.”

“So… so it doesn’t bother you? It wouldn’t bother you if they were…”

“No, Miss Evans, no it doesn’t. Does it bother you?”

There was suddenly a hard edge to Potter’s voice and a shift in his expression. He was watching her, waiting for her response, and she had the impression that she would not want to give the wrong answer to his question.

“It’s… it seems a bit strange to me, because it’s a bit unfamiliar, I suppose. I’ve never thought about it before. But no, I don’t think it bothers me.”

“Oh, good. Never really saw what the fuss was about myself. You don’t choose who you fall in love with.”

Lily thought of the comments her father used to make. He seemed to think that there were plenty of things to fuss about. And she was pretty sure that both the church and the law had some rather strong objections as well. But she found herself unable to argue with Potter’s logic. Besides, she’d grown rather fond of Remus and didn’t like the thought of him suffering further just because he’d fallen in love with a man.

“Honestly, it’s a real weight off my mind,” Potter continued. “They are perfect for each other. Now we’ve just got to sort out the small matter of Sirius being falsely imprisoned and everything will be just spiffing. But I’m sure Remus will figure it out, clever chap like him.”

“Oh.”

Lily wasn’t sure what else to say. The evidence so far suggested that proving Black’s innocence was anything but a “small matter”.

“I must let you get back to your work, Miss Evans. Those cribs won’t decode themselves, will they? I’ve been rambling on for far too long and you’ve been frightfully patient.”

“It’s no trouble, really. I don’t mind listening, I know it can help at a time like this.”

He nodded at her and gave a gentle smile.

“You really are very kind. You know that you’re proving all my initial impressions correct? Knew you were a good sort, the kind of person one wants to have around when you’re in a bit of a pickle.”

Lily returned to the decoding room with her mind very much on other matters. James Potter may have had his first impressions confirmed, but Lily was starting to suspect that hers couldn’t have been more wrong.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has an encounter with Dolohov, and he knows what he has to do.

January 1943

_Like father, like son._

His stepfather’s words still echoed in Remus’s head, years since he’d last seen him. He’d call him a coward as he scampered away to avoid being boxed around the ears or, less often as Remus had got older, as he cowered in the corner unable to escape a hiding. Then he’d remind Remus that his father had been a coward too.

_Like father, like son._

Remus had tried, he really had. He had tried not to be like his father. First, he’d planned to join the army as soon as he was old enough, but polio had put an end to that. In the boy’s home, he’d tried to do things that his body wouldn’t allow, trying to play the same games and going the same places the other boys did. He usually ended up hurt, but it felt like no more than he deserved. During the Blitz, he’d volunteered as an ambulance driver, even though driving the heavy vehicles through London’s narrow streets left his body aching with the strain. It meant that he was out in the most dangerous of conditions, when the bombs were falling, when most people were in shelters. Only then did he feel as if, perhaps, he had left his father’s legacy behind. For the first time in his life, Remus felt as if he was worthwhile.

That had come to an end when a bomb had brought half a building down on the ambulance he was driving.

_Like father, like son._

The months he had spent in hospital had been dark, but when he’d been recruited to Bletchley, he felt, at least, that he was of some use. However he still felt like a coward, and never more than when he thought of Sirius Black.

_Like father, like son._

In the end, Remus’s father had abandoned those he loved when he ended his life. His mother and he had been dependent on the charity of relatives until she’d remarried, and things hadn’t improved after that. And, as he tossed and turned and failed to fall asleep, Remus could not escape the fact that he was no different. He had fallen in love with Sirius and then pushed him away, and now Sirius was imprisoned. If he was convicted of treason, which was possible if the authorities believed he was an enemy spy, he would be hanged.

Remus lay in bed, listening to the footsteps of Bletchley staff walking to the morning shift. He was on the evening shift, officially finishing at midnight, although he’d ended up working until two on an unusual crib which was suspected to relate to the siege of Stalingrad. He hadn’t cracked it, and he knew that was one reason he couldn’t sleep. But it wasn’t the only one. 

Looking back, Remus realised that he had begun falling in love with Sirius Black the first day they had met. Their drunken encounter, which filled Remus with shame to remember, had made things so much worse. It allowed Remus a far more vivid vision of what might have been, had he been a different person and the world a different place. But after that night, Remus had nearly destroyed their friendship by withdrawing from Sirius, barely speaking to him for weeks until James had spoken to him about it.

Slowly, cautiously, Remus had begun to rebuild the friendship they’d once had. He had tried to maintain a distance though, and had never allowed himself to imagine that Sirius could ever feel the same. Sirius didn’t make that difficult, openly flirting with a series of handsome, charming men who didn’t drag themselves around on crutches or have faces covered in scars. So they listened to music, or played chess, or discussed poetry, carefully avoiding the subject they’d agreed not to discuss.

Remus tried to protect his heart and tell himself that he and Sirius were nothing more than friends, but he couldn’t deny that there was _something_ between them. No matter how hard he tried not to, Remus would find himself telling Sirius things he had never spoken of to anyone else. When he was with Sirius, the world seemed brighter. Remus could even believe in a future where he could do more than just survive. He could have hopes and dreams.

At times, Remus almost believed that Sirius felt something too. There were the glances Sirius would send him, the little smiles when they were working on their cribs and both looked up at each other at the same moment. As Remus shared his secrets with Sirius, Sirius shared his own, and the man that Remus saw was very different to his public persona.

But there was no way that a man like Sirius Black, brilliant, handsome, wealthy and charismatic, could want someone like Remus Lupin. And so there would be a moment, a glance, a conversation, and Remus would feel as if maybe, just maybe, Sirius felt about him the way Remus felt about Sirius. Then it would all come crashing down in his mind, as he remembered who he was and that nobody could possibly love someone as useless and broken as him.

When he’d heard that Sirius had been arrested, it made a strange sort of sense to Remus. He’d thought he’d known Sirius, but clearly he hadn’t known a thing. He felt the shame burn through him then, that he’d trusted a spy, that he had fallen in love with a traitor, that he had believed Sirius truly cared for him.

_Like father, like son._

For three days, Remus had believed Sirius was a spy. Three long days, where he had believed that the man he loved would betray his country. Then, of course, he had come to his senses, and his mind, so used to working out complicated puzzles, realised that the story didn’t make sense. 

Every time he thought of those three days, Remus felt as if _he_ was the traitor. He was weak and fickle, thinking he was in love with Sirius one day then believing the worst of him the next.

_Like father, like son._

When Lily Evans had come to him, making some quite convincing points against Sirius’s guilt, it had been an opportunity to make up for that betrayal. He’d spent hours trying to figure things out, to make sense of it, but nothing worked. The only thing he was certain of was that Sirius had not been the intended target. He was the one who should have been imprisoned, not Sirius. It was just one more way that Remus let Sirius down. One more way he failed.

_Like father, like son._

At five, Remus gave up trying to sleep. He’d been in bed three hours with those words running through his head like a stuck record on the grammophone. He got up and dressed, then left the house quietly, walking up to Bletchley Park in the cold darkness long before dawn.

He went to hut two first, and ate a bowl of porridge with honey for breakfast. Most of the staff complained about the porridge, but it was better than Mrs Umbridge served and not much different from what he’d had in the boys’ home.

When he’d finished a couple of cups of tea, he headed for hut six and the machine room, and sat down at his desk.

“You’re here early. Thought you were on evening shifts.”

Pettigrew got up from his seat and walked across to Lupin. He sat on the edge of Lupin’s desk with his arms folded.

“Yes, but I couldn’t sleep. Thought I might as well be here.”

Pettigrew nodded as if he agreed.

“Night shifts always remind me of when Prongs, Padfoot and I were at Oxford, you know. Late night study sessions, cramming for exams, all that, you know. Well, you wouldn’t know, of course. Never went, did you? We’d drink tea and have tons of biscuits, share notes, that kind of thing. Or when there was an essay due. Prongs always left everything until the last minute, me too. Pads always seemed to have his done early though, no idea how, I used to joke he must have paid someone to do them for him, ha ha.”

He laughed and Remus forced a smile. He couldn’t imagine Sirius doing such a thing, or finding the idea funny. Sirius looked effortlessly brilliant at everything he did, but that was largely because he hated appearing less than perfect in front of anyone. He’d been playing the piano for more than twenty years, but still went around to James’s most days to fit in some practice.

“But, you know, even if he’d done all his work, he’d still stay up with me, or Prongs. Loyal friend, you know. Known him since we were boys. Awful business this whole spy thing. Anyway, I’m just popping out for a fag. You fancy one?”

Pettigrew offered the cigarette packet to Remus.

“No thank you.”

“Right then, see you in a bit.”

Pettigrew walked out of the room as Remus watched, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. He never offered Remus his cigarettes. Seldom shared them with anyone, in fact, and he knew that Remus didn’t smoke. Or perhaps that was why he offered them – he would look generous, but was in no danger of Remus taking one.

Remus had never been quite sure how to take Pettigrew. He was always friendly and frequently stopped to chat with Remus, so it took him months before he realised why he always seemed to feel awful after he’d spoken with Pettigrew.

Every conversation they’d had, Remus realised, emphasised how well Pettigrew knew Sirius and James, and how Remus wasn’t quite like them. Never went to university, didn’t go to their posh boarding school, didn’t ride horses or play polo. Sat on the sidelines scoring the match while the others played cricket. Even the way he would serve drinks at James’s parties served to remind Remus that he knew nothing about wine varieties or cocktails.

If it wasn’t so patently absurd, Remus would have thought he was jealous. More likely he just didn’t like Remus and wanted to keep him away from the friends he’d known since they were boys. Remus couldn’t entirely blame him.

_Like father, like son._

The words were still nagging him as Remus tried to put Pettigrew out of his mind and focus on his cipher. When he’d got something to send to the decoding room he got up and collected a pile of new ciphers that had come in that morning. A couple looked fairly obvious and therefore probably unimportant, but there was one that felt different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he’d realised that he had an instinct for the patterns. Sometimes he just had a feeling that one would be easy to crack or that one would be difficult, and the feelings were often right.

He put in a few hours of work, barely noticing the time. He still didn’t have anything that looked promising from the cipher, but he decided to put it to one side and get some more tea. He’d barely stepped out of the hut before he felt someone bump into him from behind. He stumbled and felt someone grab his arm roughly.

“Careful there, old chap, you nearly took a tumble.”

The words might have suggested the speaker was concerned for him, but the hand that was now gripping his arm painfully tight suggested otherwise. He looked up to see a pair of dark eyes and heavy brows. He knew the man by sight, but had always managed to avoid conversing with him before.

“Dolohov, isn’t it?” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

“Remus Lupin,” Dolohov said in response.

There was something in his tone that made the hairs on Remus’s arms prickle with dread. This was no casual chat.

“You’re a dark horse, Lupin. Who would have thought a nobody like you would have so many secrets.”

Remus felt his stomach twist as Dolohov began to pull Remus away from the hut and towards the edge of the park. The ground was muddy and uneven, and it took all of Remus’s concentration not to fall.

Dolohov said nothing more until they were among the trees. He stopped dragging Remus and released his arm.

“So,” he said, standing back and looking Remus up and down, “a conscientious objector, eh? Seems fitting that a coward like that would have spawned a useless thing like you.”

Remus said nothing. Dolohov obviously had some sort of plan and there was no point in answering until Remus understood more.

“Now, I’m not a man to judge, so I wouldn’t take against you just because of what your father did in the last war. But I can’t say everyone at B.P. would take such a generous view. It would be unfortunate if everyone were to hear.”

Dolohov looked at Remus as if he was concerned for him. Remus looked back at him with a blank expression. He was pretty sure where Dolohov was going now, and it didn’t look good.

“Of course, that’s not your only secret, is it, Lupin? Because there’s a rather strange irony in your father’s story, isn’t there? Having refused to fight for King and Country, the only life he ended up taking was his own. You really do come from bad blood, don’t you, Lupin? And you’re here, among all the debs and boffins, and they think you’re just one of them, don’t they?”

Dolohov gave Remus another concerned look and then put his arm across Remus’s shoulders. It was the kind of friendly gesture that James might make, but from Dolohov it just served to emphasise how trapped Remus was.

“But there’s more, isn’t there? After your mother remarried, your family didn’t really want you around, did they? Stepfather cut you up, didn’t he? Marked that pretty face of yours.”

With the hand that wasn’t gripping Remus’s shoulder, Dolohov traced the scars that ran over his face with his fingers. Remus began to feel sick.

“Dumped you in a boys home, didn’t they? Nobody in your family wanted you, so they just packed you off to London. Let charity take care of you, because they couldn’t be bothered.”

Remus could feel himself shaking as Dolohov continued to run his fingers over Remus’s face. His mouth was close to Remus’s ear as it spilled sour breath and poison.

“Altogether, it makes quite a story, doesn’t it Lupin? Here’s Remus Lupin, he’s a cripple but other than that, seems like a pretty respectable chap, doesn’t he? Nice manners, speaks the King’s English, one of us, so to speak. But you’re not, are you? You’re a fraud. Father a coward who killed himself, stepfather went to jail, brought up on charity… Seems like the sort of thing people ought to know, doesn’t it? I feel obliged, you know.”

Remus took a breath and tried to swallow the rising nausea.

“Of course, you might feel differently. You might prefer they didn’t know. Would you? Would you prefer I didn’t mention it?”

He said nothing in response and Dolohov’s expression twisted into a sneer.

“I asked you a question, Lupin. Do you want everyone to know, or not?”

“Not especially,” Remus said, knowing that Dolohov was now about to back him into a corner.

“Sensible boy, Lupin. So the next question is, of course, how much are you willing to pay to make sure everyone at B.P. doesn’t find out? To make sure that pretty Evans girl doesn’t hear all about your secrets? Don’t think she’d want to hang around with you once she found out, would she? Or that plain girl from hut five, more your type, I’d have thought. Would you want her to find out?”

Remus had suspected this was where Dolohov was going from the moment he’d mentioned Remus’s father. He said nothing and Dolohov’s sneer turning into a menacing grin.

“Oh, you’d prefer that I named my price then? Shall we start at, I don’t know, maybe fifty pounds?”

“What? Are you insane?”

The words slipped out before Remus could stop them. After several years working at the bank, being frugal with his expenses and sending a bit each month to his mother, Remus had managed to save the sum of forty five pounds. If he used all those saving and had a few months’ warning, he could possibly scrape together fifty pounds, but then he’d be back to where he was at seventeen. And it wouldn’t just be fifty pounds. That wasn’t how blackmail worked. There would be more demands, of that he was certain.

Dolohov laughed.

“Of course, silly me. You’re just a chap who left school after sixth form. Don’t get the salary of a man with a degree. You barely get by, don’t you? Can’t even afford a decent room in Bletchley. Fifty pounds might as well be five hundred. Probably can’t even imagine it.”

Remus shivered at the glee in Dolohov’s voice. Clearly, the next thing Dolohov asked was going to be even worse.

“Chap like you, fifty pounds seems like a fortune, but there are those at B.P. who carry that in their pockets and probably forget they’ve even got it. Trouble is, they don’t all have nice juicy secrets like you do.”

The hand that had been touching Remus’s scars now ruffled his hair.

“James Potter, now he’s the sort who could have fifty pounds in loose change and not even notice. A generous sort, too, I hear he’s even helping you pay your rent. Seems to have taken a shine to you for some reason, can’t think why, but that’s neither here nor there. All you’d have to do is ask him. He’s sure to help. Tell him your mother’s sick or something.”

“I’m not asking James for money,” Remus snapped.

“Well, then, that’s your choice,” Dolohov replied, his voice going hard and cold. “You find the money, or I tell, simple as that. I’ll give you two days, then I’ll be in touch.”

Dolohov removed the arm he’d kept around Remus’s shoulders then stepped away. As he did, he flicked his foot out, catching the end of one of Remus’s crutches and knocking it away. Remus fell, landing heavily on his hip and elbow.

“Gosh, how careless of me,” Dolohov said, before turning and walking away, leaving Remus lying in the mud.

Remus stayed on the ground for several minutes, waiting until the bursts of pain through his hip and shoulder subsided, before attempting to get to his feet. By the time he was upright, he was sweating with the effort, even though his clothes were damp from the wet, muddy ground. When he’d caught his breath, he began making his way to hut 2, where at least there would be tea.

“Whatever happened to you, luvvie?”

The woman serving tea in hut two looked at Remus with concern.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said. “Slipped over in the mud, silly thing, really.”

She gave him a look which suggested she didn’t quite believe him, but brought tea over for him anyway, along with a scone, which was cut in half and had a thin smear of jam. He waited until she had moved away before he picked up the cup, holding it in both hands to keep it steady.

By the time he had drunk half the tea, his hands were shaking a bit less and his mind was clearing. There was one good thing, he realised. At least now he knew Dolohov’s game. It explained the odd meetings he’d been having with a number of Bletchley staff – he was blackmailing them.

Sirius had been one of those that Dolohov had met with – Remus wondered whether Dolohov was blackmailing him. He shuddered at the thought of Sirius being cornered by a thug like Dolohov, but had to admit that he was a plausible target, with secrets that he wouldn’t want to become common knowledge. He was fairly wealthy too, receiving a generous allowance from his family as well as his salary. The allowance would have stopped if Sirius’s affairs were widely known, so he had every reason to try and keep Dolohov quiet.

There was another fact that struck Remus at that point, as he pulled out his notebook and pencil and began to scribble on the page. Dolohov was in the perfect position for a blackmailer. Among the jobs that Riddle and his men did was doing background checks on the staff. They were in the perfect position to blackmail those whose secrets they uncovered. Remus wondered whether it was just Dolohov, acting on his own initiative and in his own interests, or whether there were others involved. Based on the observations he’d recorded from Tonks, Remus was inclined to think that it wasn’t just Dolohov. There were a number of Riddle’s men who had the same pattern of interaction with Bletchley staff.

But something was nagging at Remus, and it wasn’t until he’d completely finished his tea that he figured out what it was. A search of the official records would have told Dolohov most of Remus’s secrets, but not all. His father’s death had been recorded as accidental. The doctor who had written the death certificate had known his parents, and had known that recording the death as suicide would have meant he couldn’t have been buried in the local churchyard, not to mention the associated stigma.

It would not have been impossible to find out that the death had been suicide. If Dolohov or another of Riddle’s men had asked Fenrir Greyback, Remus’s stepfather, he would certainly have told them. But there were things that Greyback wouldn’t mention, like what he had done to Remus or the fact that he had been to jail.

That was another thing. If Dolohov had got his information, except for the suicide, from official records, he would have known that Remus’s stepfather had been in and out of jail for years, ever since his discharge from the army. However Dolohov’s exact words were ‘stepfather went to jail’, implying a single event.

Remus felt the hairs on the back of his neck as the pattern began to emerge. The were only two people who knew that precise combination of facts about Remus, and no more. One of them was James Potter, who was surely not the one who had told Dolohov, given that Dolohov’s plan was to blackmail Remus into getting money from James. The other was Peter Pettigrew. Tonks had reported Peter speaking with Dolohov on a number of occasions, while Remus had observed a number of tense conversations between Peter and James. Peter, he knew, wasn’t particularly wealthy, not in Sirius’s league and certainly nothing like James. Was Dolohov blackmailing Peter? Was Peter getting money from James to pay Dolohov? And had Peter betrayed Remus’s secrets to his blackmailer.

There was one other point that seemed to convenient to be coincidence. Peter had conspicuously gone outside for a smoke soon after Remus’s unexpected arrival at hut 6. Remus suspected that it was no accident that Dolohov was waiting for Remus the next time he took a break.

Remus looked down at the notes on his page. He could see a pattern, but there were still some significant gaps. The biggest of them was that Remus could see no logical reason for Dolohov to frame either Remus or Sirius as a spy. Both were blackmail targets and worth nothing to him if locked up in prison. Was the spy someone else? Or was there another reason to frame Sirius or Remus?

“Working on cribs outside the hut, Lupin? You know I could report you for that?”

Remus looked up with a start to see Severus Snape standing over him, a sneer on his face.

“I… I’m not,” Remus said. “It’s just… just my diary. Random thoughts, that kind of thing.”

Snape looked unconvinced. He snatched the notebook away from Remus and began flicking through it. The sneer shifted to a look of annoyance.

“What is this rubbish?”

“Nothing of any consequence, as I said. Just random jottings. It’s in a bit of a code, just schoolboy stuff. Didn’t want the others reading my diary in the dorm, and now it’s just habit.”

Snape gave Remus a glare, but he tossed the notebook back.

“I hope, for your sake, that you aren’t lying to me,” he said, before turning sharply and walking out of the hut.

Remus let out a long breath to steady his nerves. He’d been careless, working on his notes where anyone could see him and arousing the suspicious of one of Riddle’s men. He wasn’t sure what Snape would to say to Riddle of their conversation, but he know he could be in serious trouble if Dolohov learned of his investigation.

_Like father, like son._

He slipped the notebook into his pocket and began climbing to his feet.

 _No, Greyback_ , he thought, _not this time. I am not my father_.

Remus Lupin knew what he had to do, even if it destroyed his reputation and he was lost his job at Bletchley. If there was any chance it would help Sirius, he would do it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lupin has news.

January 1943

Lupin looked awful. In fact, Lily thought, she didn’t think she had ever seen him look worse, and that really was saying something. His face was pale, with dark circles under his eyes suggesting he hadn’t slept. There was mud on his clothing, most of it on the right side of his body. It looked like he had fallen. He moved gingerly, as if in more pain than usual, perhaps also the result of the fall. But the worst of it was his haunted expression. He wasn’t even trying to pretend that everything was fine.

It had been Potter who had summoned her from the decoding room to say that Lupin had requested a meeting. He’d told the shift supervisor that she was required for some work elsewhere and sent her to to an address in the village, where a stern-looking older woman had shown her into a large parlour. Lupin was already there, as was Dorcas Meadowes. Potter arrived soon after Lily and began serving the tea which the stern-looking woman had supplied. It struck her as odd that Potter should be the one serving tea, before she realised that this must be his lodgings and the woman his landlady.

Finally, there was a knock at the door and Andromeda Black and Ted Tonks walked in. The landlady exchanged glances with Potter, before taking a seat herself. The whole room was thick with tension, everyone looking at one another, uncertain of what was about to happen. Finally, Dorcas broke the silence.

“Golly, this is just like the dénouement of an Agatha Christie novel. I feel as if Hercule Poirot is about to walk through door.”

Potter laughed, but nobody else did. Dorcas sighed and spoke again.

“Can someone explain why we are here, please? I have work that I should be doing.”

Lupin gave a small jerk, as if he had been startled.

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry. That should be me. I… I asked James to bring you all here. I… well, I have some news… some progress. Not that I’ve got it all worked out but… some of what we have been pondering makes sense now. But… ah… there’s something else. I need to tell you some things first. If, after that, you wish to leave, you may do so.”

Lily felt a chill settle over her. This couldn’t be good. She glanced at Dorcas, who gave Lily a faint smile, then at Potter, who was looking at Lupin with concern. Andromeda and Tonks sat very close together, he with one hand on her knee.

“There are some things about me,” Lupin continued, “that you are not aware of, as far as I know. Except for you, James, you know this, but the others don’t. I… well, you see… I don’t come from a very respectable family.”

He paused, looking uncomfortable, as if he had said something rather shocking. Lily wanted to roll her eyes. Perhaps the other people in the room spent their time only among people who come from _very_ respectable families, but Lily grew up in the row houses of Cokeworth. Her father had done better than most, but all her friends were the children of employees at the steel mill. Well, except for Severus, whose father was an unemployable drunk.

“My father,” Lupin said in a quiet voice, “was a conscientious objector in the Great War.”

He paused again, his eyes quickly scanning the room before looking down at his hands.

“He was still sent to the front, worked as a medic, but he was gassed and came back… unfit. He… he took his own life when I was four.”

Lily heard a gasp somewhere in the room, but couldn’t place where it came from. Lupin kept looking down at his hands. She understood now, that was the kind of scandal that would make people cross the street to avoid someone. Lily’s father had had much to say on the subject of _those lazy conchies_ when war had been declared. And his views on suicide were similar.

“My mother… she remarried. It wasn’t easy, my stepfather didn’t like me much. Then my brother and I got polio. Well, my half-brother, his son. My brother died and I didn’t and… I went to live in a boys’ home in London after… after…”

His voice caught slightly and he stopped speaking. The whole room was silent except for their breathing, which suddenly seemed horribly loud.

“What happened, Lupin?” Dorcas asked, her voice unusually quiet and gentle.

“My stepfather… he… he cut my face with a broken bottle. I think… well, I think he was trying to kill me but… he didn’t. Clearly. He went to jail. It wasn’t the first time, wasn’t the last either. He’s always in and out of jail. So… well, there you have it. The whole sordid tale. I’m sorry if this had shocked you, but in the light of what I’ve found out… it’s best you hear it from me. And, as I said, if you wish to leave and not be associated with me in any way, I understand perfectly.”

He sat, looking at his hands, shoulders hunched, and Lily had a sudden urge to get up gather him into her arms in a hug. She knew that it would be frowned upon, but he just looked so lost, and Lily couldn’t imagine what he must have suffered.

“Oh good God, Lupin, you really are an idiot.”

Dorcas’s voice, the tone rather gentler than the words, broke the stunned silence. Remus looked up at her, confusion on his face.

“Look around you, Lupin. Does anyone in this room seem like the sort of person who would reject someone because of their family? Do you really think that?”

Lupin shook his head.

“I don’t want things to be difficult for any of you, because of me.”

“Remus,” Andromeda said, “All of us here know what it is to be judged harshly. We wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But that’s my point,” he said. “All of you have to face enough disapproval, without being tarred with the same brush as me, because you are my friends.”

“That’s ridiculous, Lupin. You need to get it into your head that none of us care who your father was and what he did, or who your stepfather was and what he did. It’s you who is our friend.”

Lily nodded at Dorcas’s words, as did the others in the room.

“Oh,” Lupin said. “Well… thank you. You are all very kind.”

“But why are you telling us this, Mr Lupin,” Lily asked. “You wouldn’t have brought this up without a reason.”

He gave Lily a hesitant smile.

“Always to the point, Miss Evans. Yes, there is a reason. Dolohov is… I know what he’s been up to. Blackmail. He came to me this morning, threatening to share the information I’ve told you with the whole of B.P. if I didn’t pay him. And since I have no intention of doing so, soon everyone will know.”

“You said that, treacle,” Tonks said, looking at Andromeda. “You wondered about blackmail.”

“I thought I was being paranoid.”

“I think he’s been blackmailing a lot of people. Sirius and Peter among them, I think.”

“Are you sure? That seems… surely they would have told me,” Potter asked.

“That’s not usually how blackmail works,” Dorcas said, an edge of sarcasm in her voice. “People don’t go and tell their friends when they’re being blackmailed. The whole point is that the victim has secrets that they don’t want revealed.”

“But I don’t think Sirius has any secrets from me. And I don’t think Peter has any at all. There’s nothing about him that he could be blackmailed about.”

“I seen Dolohov talking to Pettigrew,” Tonks said. “It didn’t seem too friendly, and I don’t see what they’d have to talk about. Lots of times. And I seen Dolohov talking to Black as well.”

“James… when Dolohov asked me for money, he asked for more than I could possibly give him. When I told him I didn’t have the money, he told me to ask you. Said you had plenty of money and I should tell you some story so you’d give it to me. Like my mother was sick or something. He must have known I wouldn’t have much myself and I think he asked me because he thought I could get money from you. He may have tried that with Sirius and Peter as well.”

Potter frowned and he gave a slight shake of his head, as if he didn’t want to accept what he was being told.

“There’s something else too,” Lupin said, looking uncomfortable. “The official records give my father’s death as accidental. The doctor knew my mother, and wrote that out of kindness to her, so my father could have a Christian burial and she wouldn’t have the stigma. Only a small number of people know his death was actually suicide. Here at B.P., the only people who knew were myself, you, Sirius and Peter.”

“But other’s outside B.P. knew, presumably,” Potter said. “Dolohov could have found out from them.”

“Occam’s razor, Potter,” Dorcas said. “The simplest scenario is that it’s Pettigrew.”

“I just can’t imagine it. He’s been such a loyal friend. And what secrets could he possibly have that he could be blackmailed over?”

“Do you think Sirius is more likely to have told Dolohov Remus’s secrets? Because that’s the only realistic alternative,” Andromeda said, giving Potter a hard stare.

Potter’s face fell and he gave a long sigh.

“No. No, he would never… you’re right. There is no way Sirius would ever betray Remus’s confidence like that. It has to be Peter. I just can’t… no, I just don’t _want_ to believe it. But… well, Peter has asked me for money recently. A number of times. He did say his father had been ill and had been off work. Things like that. I did wonder, but his family has never been all that well off. Not in comparison, you know. It’s never bothered me to help him out.”

“It sounds like Dolohov knew that,” Lily said. “He knew it, and he took advantage of it.”

Potter was silent, looking at the carpet in front of him, shoulders slumped. After a few moments, he lifted his head.

“So what does this mean about Sirius? Is this related to him being framed and imprisoned?”

“I can’t figure that out,” Lupin said. “There’s no advantage to Dolohov in it. But it must be, surely. Otherwise it’s an awfully big coincidence, and that… it doesn’t seem likely, to me. I find big coincidences suspicious.”

“I agree. There must be a connection. And I think it does make sense if we assume you were the target, not Sirius,” Andromeda said.

“What do you mean?” Potter asked, as Lupin frowned.

“Well,” Andromeda said, “the stolen ciphers were found in Black’s room, inside the pages of a magazine… you heard about that, I’m sure. We thought that nobody who knew Black very well would have done that, so either it was someone who didn’t know him well, or he wasn’t the intended target. Since Sirius and Remus had swapped rooms, it’s possible Remus was actually the target.”

Lupin dropped his head forward at her words, and sighed as she continued.

“If Dolohov wanted to threaten Sirius, then having someone close to him imprisoned could have been a way to do that. Perhaps Sirius refused to pay him and Dolohov needed a threat that was greater than exposing his secrets.”

“So he… “ Lily said, following Andromeda’s reasoning, “So he threatens Sirius that he can… hurt those around him or something like that, then he plants the stolen ciphers in what he thinks is Remus’s room, but it’s actually Sirius’s room, and then Sirius gets arrested and not Remus. It’s possible, I suppose. Pretty devious, though.”

“Oh, Dolohov’s devious enough,” Andromeda said. “He’s absolutely the sort to do something like that. His parents are friends of my parents, so I saw a lot him when we were younger. He thought nothing of getting the servants punished for things he had done, stole my father’s brandy once and tried to get us girls drunk on it, then pinned the theft on a couple of housemaids and got them sacked. That kind of thing.”

“He sounds utterly horrid,” Dorcas said.

“He is. The whole family’s vile, to be honest. Always talking about wonderful things were, back in Russia, how lavish the parties were, how exquisite the clothes and jewellery, how deferential the servants… that kind of thing. My parents just love all the stories about being exiled nobility. And they were awfully keen on seeing one of us girls married off to their son.”

A look of disgust crossed her face, and Tonks took her hand.

“It’s alright, treacle, don’t think about them. That’s in the past.”

She nodded and fell silent.

“So what will you do?” Tonks asked. “You said you wouldn’t pay him.”

Lupin shook his head.

“I don’t feel like we have enough evidence to get Sirius freed, but I don’t want to wait any longer. I’m going to take what I know for certain to General Dumbledore, and hope that’s enough to make him look more closely.”

“Do you think he can do anything, though?” Dorcas asked. “Dolohov answers to Riddle, and Riddle answers to the Home Office, not Dumbledore. Can he do anything?”

Lupin sighed and looked a little more defeated.

“Oh, I didn’t realise. But, even so, I don’t know who else I can go to. There’s nobody much here at B.P. who is more powerful than Riddle. And even if Riddle doesn’t know what Dolohov’s up to, I don’t trust that he will stop him. At least General Dumbledore… well, he’s always been rather nice to me.”

“I agree,” Potter said. “Riddle might answer to the Home Office, but Dumbledore knows Churchill, Morrison, Eden, Attlee… most of the war cabinet. He has influence, even if he doesn’t have command.”

“Mr Potter is correct. He’s got a lot of influence. Did you know Dumbles was Churchill’s superior officer in the army?”

All heads in the room turned to James’s landlady. Until she spoke, Lily had forgotten she was there, sitting silently beside the door.

“Gosh, Minnie, you are a dark horse. Fancy knowing something like that,” Potter said.

His landlady raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together in an expression that was half amused and half disapproving.

“I know a lot of things, Mr Potter. Don’t assume because I’m old that my brain has gone soft. For that matter, don’t make that mistake with Dumbles. He might act like everybody’s grandfather when he’s dealing with you boffins, but he’s a shrewd character and quite ruthless when he needs to be. Doesn’t like to be played for a fool either, so if Riddle thinks he can protect someone like Dolohov, he’s in for a shock. If he believes your story, he’ll act and get results, I have no doubt.”

“That’s it, isn’t it,” Lupin said, his voice quiet. “Why would he believe me? It’s the word of someone who went to Eton and Oxford against someone whose father killed himself and whose stepfather’s in and out of jail.”

“Have a little faith, Mr Lupin. Dumbles is the sort who will sees the character of the man rather than the school he went to.”

Lupin nodded at that and looked a little happier.

“When will you speak with him?” Dorcas asked.

“As soon as I can. Today, if I can arrange it.” 

“Perhaps you might want to change first,” Lily said.

“Oh, oh yes, I didn’t think…”

Lupin looked down at his clothes.

“What happened to you? Why are you covered in mud?” Dorcas asked.

“It’s nothing… I slipped…” Lupin said, looking down.

“Really?” Andromeda said, her tone sharp. “Are you sure?”

Lupin let out a breath and his shoulders dropped. He shook his head.

“Dolohov kicked away my crutch and I fell. But…”

“Lupin, you idiot, why didn’t you say?”

Dorcas got to her feet and walked over to him.

“Are you alright? Were you hurt?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, honestly” he said, shaking his head and beginning the process of arranging his crutches so he could stand.

Dorcas frowned at him, but didn’t say any more.

“Good luck, Mr Lupin. I hope he listens to you,” Lily said.

Before Lupin could answer, James’s landlady spoke again.

“I’ll call Dumbles and let him know you are coming. That may make things a little easier for you.”

“Oh, oh thank you, Miss McGonagall. I appreciate that.”

“Oh my word, Minnie, you don’t call him Dumbles to his face, do you?” Potter said.

“Of course I do, Mr Potter. He’s my friend.”

The old woman gave Potter another of her half amused looks as he thought her words over. As Lily passed her, pausing to say thank you for the tea and hospitality, McGonagall gave Lily a calculating look. It wasn’t the usual look that the snobbier girls gave, sweeping up and down her body, as if they were counting up the value of her shoes, stockings and dress. She wasn’t looking at Lily’s appearance. She seemed to be looking for something else.

After a few moments, she gave a nod and a small smile, as if she found something to approve of.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Evans.”

She gave Lily a pat on the shoulder.

“Yes,” Lily heard McGonagall say under her breath as she walked out the door. “I think you will do nicely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter's likely to be a mammoth one...


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus goes to Dumbledore and finds out more than he expected

January 1943

Dumbledore was looking at Remus from the far side of a desk which appeared larger than the whole machine room. His eyes, an intense icy blue, stared at Remus from under bushy white eyebrows which were matched by an equally extravagant moustache. He had looked thoughtful, but not surprised, when Remus had told him about Dolohov.

“That is quite an accusation to make, my boy,” he said, finally, while Remus shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Yes, I suppose it is, sir,” Remus said, matching his gaze.

Now that he’d told his story to Dumbledore, Remus felt a sense of lightness in him. Soon, all of Bletchley would know his secrets, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. His friends had said they would stand by him, and he believed them. They had not judged him because he walked with crutches and had scars on his face, he realised, so it made sense that they would not judge him for the actions of his father or stepfather either. Furthermore, every person in that room, with the possible exception of Miss McGonagall, knew Sirius’s secrets as well, and they hadn’t judged him. 

With friends like that, the rest of Bletchley could go hang.

“Would you be prepared to repeat these accusations? In front of others? There are a few men who I believe need to hear them.”

Remus straightened his shoulders and nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

And so Lupin waited, while Dumbledore made phone calls and a woman brought them both tea. Later, she brought some sandwiches and Lupin ate, wondering how long he would end up sitting in the corner of Dumbledore’s office. 

It was mid-afternoon before Dumbledore called Remus to follow him into the next room. There, several men were already seated around a large table. Remus recognised none of them and he was sure that none of them were usually at Bletchley. Dumbledore directed Remus to a seat next to him then turned as another man walked through the door.

Remus felt his heart sink. It was Severus Snape, being greeted warmly by Dumbledore. Despite the warm greeting, Snape kept the scowl fixed to his face as he nodded at Lupin then sat down.

“Um, sir?” Remus said, leaning in towards Dumbledore. “He works for Riddle, doesn’t he?”

“Severus works for me, Remus.”

Still unconvinced, Remus sat down with his eyes still on Snape, who was now scowling at the table in front of him.

“He is trustworthy, you know, my boy,” Dumbledore said, leaning across and patting Remus’s shoulder in reassurance. “I’ve known him since he was a boy, knew his father actually. He was a fine soldier.”

Remus nodded and glanced again at Snape. The man was dogged by rumours about his family – more than once Remus had heard that his father was a drunk, and when a comment of that nature had been made in front of Lily, she hadn’t contradicted it. Snape’s father wouldn’t have been the first to return from the trenches damaged beyond repair. In his kinder moments, Remus wondered whether his stepfather had once been a decent man before he’d been to war.

The door to the room opened once more, and all the men immediately stood. Remus was still scrambling to his feet when he realised that the woman who had walked into the room was James’s landlady.

“Minnie!” said one of the men, walking across and embracing her.

“Hello, Jasper,” she said, before walking across to greet Dumbledore.

She nodded at some of the others before she took a place at the table next to Remus and the men all sat down again.

“For some time,” Dumbledore began, “I have had concerns regarding the security operation here at Bletchley Park. While I didn’t give Longbottom’s ramblings much credence, I did have some discussions with Herbert and we took the precaution of having Severus here placed with Riddle’s group.”

Dumbledore nodded at Severus then at man with glasses and swept back hair, presumably Herbert.

“The handling of the situation with Black reinforced these concerns. The fact that Riddle’s group appeared to be caught unaware by the situation, with no suspicion of Black at all, was very poor indeed. In addition to that, their poor relationship with the local police meant that when the stolen ciphers were reported to them, they didn’t go immediately to Riddle. Instead they handled the situation themselves, rather publicly. It really was rather unfortunately that the whole of Bletchley heard about it.”

There were a few murmurs of agreement from around the table.

“Then, a few weeks ago, Severus came to me with a rather extraordinary suggestion. His suggestion indicated to me that the reason Riddle’s group has been so ineffective may be because their attentions have been entirely focused on something else entirely, a programme of systematic blackmail aimed at acquiring as much money as possible for Riddle and a select few of his closest confidants.”

“Rather far-fetched, surely?” said the man who was presumably Herbert.

There were murmurs of assent from around the table, before the man McGonagall had greeted as ‘Jasper’ spoke.

“Not necessarily. One piece of information that Minnie reported to Monty and myself was that one of Potter’s friends has been asking him for money. James has helped him out in the past, apparently, but not for large sums. This was different, much more frequent. If he was being blackmailed…”

The man looked across to McGonagall, who nodded.

Remus glanced between the two of them and then at Dumbledore, trying to work out the connection. McGonagall and Dumbledore were friends, as were McGonagall and ‘Jasper’, but she was also reporting to ‘Jasper’ and someone called ‘Monty’ about James and Peter.

“Who is the friend?” Dumbledore asked.

“Peter Pettigrew,” McGonagall said. “Although I have no information on what he might have been blackmailed about.”

There were a few moments of silence, before Snape spoke for the first time.

“Cheating, I think. I was at school with them, Pettigrew wasn’t particularly academic. In fact, he once offered me money to do his assignments. I gave him short shrift, of course. But his university marks were quite different from at school. His marks were very high, much higher than you’d expect from someone with his school record. It seems likely that he found someone to help him.”

“You were there on scholarship, weren’t you? Dumbledore got you in, I heard,” said a man in a crisp, white naval uniform.

Snape scowled at him, but it was Dumbledore who spoke.

“I arranged for Severus to sit the entrance exam,” he said, giving the man a cold stare. “Everything beyond that was entirely on his merits.”

Dumbledore held his gaze, and Remus was reminded of McGonagall’s words, that he could be ruthless when he needed to be. There appeared to be no love lost between the two.

“I hold Severus’s opinion in the highest regard, and he is not prone to flights of fantasy. You may find the idea of systematic blackmail implausible, but I did not. Severus and I both made approaches to some of the apparent victims we considered more likely to talk, but without success. Well, that is until Mr Lupin came to me of his own volition.”

Dumbledore looked at Remus, his face expectant.

“Remus, would you please tell the group what you told me?”

Remus took a slow, shaking breath. The eyes on him made him want to run. He knew they’d see his scars, his shabby clothes, his crutches, and judge him even more harshly than they’d judged Snape, who at least looked somewhat respectable.

“I was approached by Antonin Dolohov, one of Riddle’s men. He threatened to reveal certain information about my family if I didn’t pay him fifty pounds. When I told him that I didn’t have the money, he said that I should ask James Potter for it.”

“What was the information he threatened to reveal?”

It was the naval man again, looking at Remus with barely concealed scorn. Remus lifted his chin slightly.

“My father was a conscientious objector in the Great War, and he later killed himself. My stepfather was violent and spent time in prison, and I lived in a boys’ home from the age of ten.”

The naval man turned to Dumbledore.

“Is this your star witness, then, Dumbles? Do you expect us to believe someone with a family like that?”

“Is there a problem, Albert?” said the man named ‘Herbert’.

His voice was quiet, but he gave the naval man an icy stare. The naval man stared back.

“His father was a coward,” he said, a sneer on his face. “And that Snape’s father is little better. And Dumbledore expects us to believe them against someone like the Dolohov’s boy. That’s what happens when upstarts like these two get an education above their station.”

“Really, Albert, surely that’s taking it a bit far, old chap,” said the man known as Jasper.

“Oh, really? This whole place is a joke, rotten with upstarts like these two, that undisciplined rabble of academics and a pack of queers–“

“That’s enough,” Dumbledore said sharply.

All eyes in the room turned towards him. He fixed the navy man with an icy glare before continuing to speak in a voice that was quiet but firm with authority.

“We all appreciate the great strain you are under, Albert, but there really is no need to go insulting the men on whom the success of this war depends.”

“And women,” Remus heard McGonagall murmur under her breath.

Dumbledore turned his head and the corner of his mouth twitched up.

“Of course, Minnie, quite right. The men and women on whom the success of this war depends.”

Albert went red in his face and looked as if he was about to explode, but he said nothing more.

“Well, then, does anyone have any questions for either Mr Snape or Mr Lupin?”

“I have one,” said a man who hadn’t spoken before, with a distinctly American accent. “How many men do you believe were or are being blackmailed?”

Dumbledore turned to Snape.

“Severus?”

“I believe that Dolohov was or is blackmailing three, that’s excluding Lupin, Lucius Malfoy is blackmailing three, Walden MacNair is blackmailing two and I also suspect that Bellatrix Black is blackmailing two women. I suspect that the Lestrange brothers act as backup, the two of them are a pretty convincing threat. All of them give Riddle a cut.”

“Any thoughts on why?” asked the man McGonagall had called Jasper.

“Money, as the General said. Riddle has expensive tastes which far exceed his means, as does Dolohov. Malfoy gambles.”

“Well, Riddle’s family weren’t anybody, were they? Just what I was saying before, you give these people an education–“

“And the others, Albert?” Dumbledore asked, sounding a little tired. “Dolohov? Malfoy?”

Remus tuned out the bickering as he thought back to what he’d learned from Tonks. Dolohov had met with Sirius, with Peter Pettigrew, with Amos Diggory from hut 8, Gus Fletcher from hut 11 and one other that Tonks knew only as Augie who worked in hut 14.

“Ah, excuse me, sir,” Remus said when there was a brief pause.

Dumbledore turned to look at him and raised his bushy eyebrows. Remus knew that people like him didn’t speak without invitation in a room full of Important Men.

“Mr Snape mentioned Dolohov blackmailing three men. But… but I think there are more. I think that there are five. Well, my friends and I… we think so…”

“Interesting, interesting.”

He turned to Snape.

“And who do you have on your list, Severus?”

Snape glared at Lupin.

“Pettigrew, Sirius Black and Amos Diggory from hut 8.”

“And you Lupin?”

“Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, Amos Diggory, Gus Fletcher from hut 11 and someone whose full name I don’t know from hut 14. Usually known as Augie.”

“What do you think, Severus?”

“Augie is Augustus Rookwood. And… yes… that is plausible, both him and Fletcher.”

Snape glared at Lupin again, as if he was annoyed at having to admit Lupin could be right.

“Well, that is most interesting, gentlemen. If nobody has any further questions, I suggest that we ask Mr Lupin and Mr Snape to leave us and we can make some decisions about what to do.”

There was nodding around the table and Dumbledore stood to show them out. As Lupin walked out the door, Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder.

“You did well, today, my boy. Said your piece calmly and clearly. Not cowed by the rank and power in the room. Didn’t get rattled by certain unkind comments. Showed real courage, your father would have been very proud.”

Remus frowned and bit back the retort that was on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t much value the opinion of a coward on his courage.

“You look perplexed, dear boy.”

“I… I suppose, I’m not sure why you’d mention my father, at a time like this. With everything that happened. His opinion… why would his opinion matter to me?”

Dumbledore looked at him for a moment, as if affronted.

“Your father was a fine man. It is a real shame he did not live to see his son grow up and make him proud.”

“You knew him?”

Dumbledore frowned for a moment, as if puzzled.

“Did my brother not speak to you?”

“Your brother? Do you mean Aberforth? The hospital orderly?”

“Oh, dear, he really didn’t tell you anything at all, did he?”

“He didn’t mention you were related, if that’s what you mean. But I did wonder.”

“Ah, well, there’s rather more to it than that, my boy. I’m so sorry I didn’t realise that my brother hadn’t spoken to you. But he can be a bit peculiar about things. Hasn’t been the same since the war, since the Great War, you know. Won’t speak of it. So I supposed I had better fill you in. Please, do wait by my office and I’ll be with you when I can.”

Dumbledore patted him in the shoulder and retreated back into the room, closing the door with a firm click. Remus stood for a moment, before walking back to Dumbledore’s office. The woman who had brought him tea before was there and she showed him to a room with a few chairs. She offered him tea and a sandwich again, then left him to his own devices, stewing over Dumbledore’s words.

It was hours before the General returned and ushered Remus into his office with profuse apologies. 

“So very sorry, dear boy, that I’ve made you wait. Quite the quandary, you see. Not so tricky to deal with Riddle and his men, but what to do about those who were being blackmailed? Perfectly capable man and women, most of them, but can’t be trusted. Most unfortunate, there’s going to be a jolly big knot to untangle. So, your father and my brother, yes?”

Dumbledore opened his desk drawer and pulled out a tin of sweets.

“Lemon drop? I’ve been hoarding these, you know. Hard to get thesedays.”

Remus shook his head.

“No thank you, sir.”

“No, perhaps you’re right. Something stronger, I think.”

He closed the tin without taking one for himself and reached back into the drawer, this time producing a flask and two glasses.

“This is more what we need right now,” he said, splashing a dark liquid into the glasses and pushing one across to Remus.

He took the glass and lifted it to his nose, sniffing cautiously, before swallowing a mouthful. The whisky burned the back of his throat, but Remus was grateful for its warmth.

“Your father, he was a medic during the Great War, you know that, don’t you.”

Remus nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“By all accounts, Lyall Lupin did a fine job. He worked under the most difficult of conditions, even under fire. He was in no less danger than any soldier fighting and he was selfless in his care for others. He saved many lives. He ended up being gassed, you know, because he gave an injured soldier his mask. I heard this from my brother and from others. Your father was no coward.”

“I… I had no idea.”

“I’m so sorry you didn’t know that, my boy. But there is more, and that is what I was thinking of when I said your father would have been proud.”

Dumbledore paused and took a hefty swallow of his drink.

“My brother commanded a company in the Somme. Your father was one of the medics in that area, my brother knew him, vaguely. Then, one day, Lyall came to my brother to complain about one of his sergeants. He accused the sergeant of mistreating his men. My brother, I’m afraid, dismissed his concerns. He wasn’t going to take the word of a conscientious objector over one of his trusted men, an experienced soldier.”

Remus nodded. He would have expected nothing different.

“Your father complained a number of times, and each time my brother dismissed him. But then one day there was an incident. The sergeant lost his temper and beat one of his men badly, put him in the hospital. Or that was the rumour that my brother heard. But when he asked the men what had happened, nobody would say a word. Too scared, you see.

“But my brother, he remembered what Lyall had said, and went to him. Your father had seen some of the incident and told Aberforth in no uncertain terms what Greyback, that was his name, had done. Once they heard that your father had spoken up, several other men came forward and spoke of what had been happening. There was a court martial and Greyback convicted of cruelty. He spent the rest of the war and some of the following peace in a military prison.

“Dear boy, are you quite well? You’ve gone pale?”

Remus felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. Greyback, that could not possibly be a coincidence.

“Remus?”

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry. It’s… it’s just… Greyback. My stepfather is Fenrir Greyback… That’s no coincidence.”

“Oh, my dear boy. Yes, that was his name. He must have… he was released in 1923, I believe. He must have gone looking for your father.”

“My father was dead by then. He died in 1922.”

Remus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He focused on his hands, clasped around the whisky glass.

“So…” he said, looking up at Dumbledore, “He found my family and… and he took my father’s place? That seems… insane.”

“He would have been looking for revenge, I think. He’s that sort of man. He found it was too late to get revenge on your father, and so… he didn’t treat you well, did he?”

Remus shook his head, not trusting his voice. All the times that Greyback had spoken to Remus of his father, calling him a coward… Greyback had known him, his father had stood up to Greyback… he was no coward and Greyback knew it, but it was the only form of revenge he could get, taking out his loathing on Remus, poisoning his mind against his father.

“He… he told me my father was a coward. Over and over again. He always said it. And he said I was just the same.”

He knew his voice was little more than a choked whisper. His mind was reeling. Everything he had known from his childhood had been upended, shifted from its foundations, shattered.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Remus.”

Dumbledore leaned forward and reached out. He gripped Remus’s arm with his hand.

“I can’t imagine, Remus, what that must have been like for you. And I’m sorry my brother didn’t speak to you. He looked for your father, you know… after the war… he was in hospital for a while, but when he got out, he looked for your father, wanted to know he was alright. He couldn’t find him though. I’m so sorry.”

Remus took a breath and then another, trying to steady himself. Dumbledore still held his arm.

“Then my brother contacted me, just over a year ago, to say he had found Lyall Lupin’s son. He told me that you were just as fine a man as he, had been injured while driving an ambulance in the Blitz. He asked if I could do something for you, find work for you, something of more use to the war effort than just shuffling paper in a bank. Of course I agreed. I would have brought you here whatever your skills, because it meant so much to my brother. It was a real stroke of luck for us that you turned out to be such a clever chap.”

“Oh, well, thank you. I did wonder… I wondered why anyone would want me.”

Dumbledore gave a small smile.

“I think you’ve rather proved the point, with what you did today. I’m most grateful to you and am very please you are here. Thank you, Remus. Thank you for your courage.”

Remus swallowed, feeling himself begin to choke up. He was in danger of embarrassing himself.

“You must be tired, dear boy,” Dumbledore said, releasing his arm then patted his hand before he sat back.

Remus nodded.

“Thank you, sir,” he whispered.

Dumbledore stood and walked to the door. Remus followed him, but paused before he left.

“Sir… Sirius Black, please look into his case. I don’t for a moment believe he was a spy. The evidence was planted by Riddle and his men, I’m sure of it. He is trustworthy, really. Please… if you can do anything.”

Dumbledore nodded.

“Don’t you worry about your Mr Black, dear boy. Given what has transpired, we will certainly be talking to him and looking at the evidence again.”

“Alright, thank you, sir.”

Remus turned and walked down the corridor, shoes squeaking slightly on the polished floor. He had a lot to think about but, more than that, for the first time in months, he felt real hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters are the property of JKR, except for a few exceptions, two of which are important here. There are two real people represented, Herbert Morrison, who was Home Secretary in Churchill's war cabinet and Brigadier Oswald Allen Harker, known as "Jasper" who was deputy head of MI5 at the time represented in the story. Morrison was a conscientious objector in WWI. Harker spent some years in India as a senior figure in the Indian Police before returning to Britain and joining MI5. "Albert" is a canon figure, not a real person.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black is back.

Late January 1943

Sirius Black’s return was less dramatic than his departure.

He’d walked into the machine room mid-morning, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his heavy Barbour jacket, his hair a little longer and his face a little thinner, but otherwise looking very much the same as he had before he’d been arrested.

The Prewitt brothers were quickly on their feet, greeting him with handshakes and pats on the back. Potter quickly emerged from his office and shook his hand, although Lily thought for a moment he would hug Black instead. The other men in the machine room also stood to greet him, but Black’s attention was elsewhere.

Lupin had hung back, as he always did, getting to his feet slowly and spending an inordinate amount of time arranging his crutches. Black brushed off the others and walked over to him, standing silent for a moment as Lupin avoided his eye.

“Hello, old thing, how have you been?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Sirius. And you?”

“Very well. It’s good to see you, Remus, it really is.”

Lupin lifted his head and met Black’s gaze for a moment, giving a small smile.

“It’s good to see you too.”

Black gave a nod, then began greeting the others, including Lily, before taking a couple of ciphers from the tray and sitting down at one of the desks. Within a few moments, he appeared absorbed in his work.

It was an hour or two later that Black walked into the decoding room.

“Gosh, it really is jolly noisy in here,” he said, voice slightly raised over the din.

Lily rolled her eyes as he walked across to her desk then half-sat on the edge, besider her Typex machine.

“Miss Evans,” he said, with a toss of his his hair that would have made most of the girls swoon. Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw Mary MacDonald watching with wide eyes.

“Mr Black,” she replied, with a raise of her eyebrows.

“I understand that I rather owe you a vote of thanks, Miss Evans.”

Lily shrugged.

“There were a few of us who worked to help you.”

“Now, I heard it was more than that. You pressed Remus into doing something, when he didn’t believe he could. That must have taken some doing. Remus does sometimes get… well, you must know how he is.” 

Lily nodded, remembering how spineless she had considered Lupin when she’d first spoken to him. It made sense now that she understood where he’d come from. A lot of his life, she realised, he’d had no choice but to accept his circumstances. But she’d seen something else too, his tenacity when he set his mind to something, and his strength. And it took a rare sort courage to remain kind, when a life like his would have embittered most.

“It was mostly Remus, you know. Once I helped him get started, he really led things. He’s a lot tougher than he appears, you know. Like a dog with a bone, once he’s decided to work something out.”

“Oh, yes, I know it. There’s no need to defend him to me.”

“I wasn’t…”

Lily paused. Alright, she was defending Lupin.

Black grinned at her and she shrugged her shoulders.

“So, Miss Evans, tonight… there’s a bit of a get-together, at James’s digs. You know, celebrate that I’m no longer locked up in prison. I’d rather like it if you came.”

Lily raised her eyebrows.

“Did Potter put you up to this?”

Potter had made numerous attempts to convince her to join one of his notorious parties, but so far she’d managed to avoid attending any of them.

But Black was shaking his head.

“ _I’m_ asking you because _I_ would like you to be there. You helped me, and I would like to express my gratitude.”

“Oh.”

Lily wondered if she had offended him. His tone was a little sharp, but he didn’t look upset.

“I don’t deny that James would be pleased if you came, but that’s not why I invited you. And Miss Meadowes will be there. She’s a friend of yours, I’m told. My cousin Andromeda too. I can assure you it’s all perfectly pukka… oh, sorry, above board and all that.”

“I know what pukka means, Mr Black.”

He tossed his head back and laughed.

“I say, you would by now, wouldn’t you? Been talking with James. Yes, well, anyway, James’s digs at six. I promise you it will all be frightfully civilised. You’ve met James’s landlady, I understand, she won’t tolerate anything untoward.”

“Oh, I believe that.”

“Jolly good then, see you at six.”

With another toss of his hair, he got up from her desk, winked at Mary MacDonald who was still staring at them, and disappeared from the decoding room.

When Lily arrived at James’s with Dorcas just after six, she found fewer people than she expected there. Potter was fussing around a table with drinks and food, far more than necessary for the people in the room, and chatting with McGonagall, Andromeda and Tonks were talking with Lupin and, of course, Black was there. When they were all seated, with drinks, Black stood and cleared his throat.

“I say, I really don’t like making speeches, but, well, I wanted to say a few things before the others arrive.”

A few months ago, Lily would have thought Black was talking nonsense – of course he’d love making speeches, he was always the centre of attention. But it fit with the Sirius Black that Lupin had described. Black could be loud and brash, but that was a mask he wore. She was seeing the real man now, and he looked nervous.

“I wanted to thank you, all of you, for what you have done over the last few months. I know that, without your efforts, I would still be in prison and… well, had I been convicted, I would have been hanged, or perhaps faced a firing squad.”

Black paused and took a breath.

“Your faith in me, your belief in my innocence and the work you did to try and clear my name… I… I honestly don’t have the words to express my gratitude. Miss Evans, I barely know you, but I understand that your sense of justice led you try and help me, and to encourage Remus to do the same. Thank you so very much. And thank you too, for being there for James, when… when he heard that his father died. He told me how kind you were and how much you helped him.”

He was mostly looking at her as he spoke, but kept glancing at Lupin, as if for reassurance.

“Dromeda, thank you just for being you, for always being decent and kind when others around you weren’t. And for bring Tonks into this, because without his cleverness and remarkable knowledge of BP, I don’t know where I’d be.

“Tonks, I’m filled with admiration for you, and your way of being so clever without people noticing, but the thing I’m most grateful for is that you look after Dromeda. I’m so glad that she found you.”

As Sirius spoke, the couple glanced at each other, and she noticed Tonks’s hand close more tightly over Andromeda’s. The last week had seen plenty for Bletchley to talk about. There had been the abrupt changes in the security staff, with Riddle and all but one of his men hastily departing, the revelations about Lupin’s family and the return of Sirius Black. But the arrival of Cygnus Black, The Viscount Grimmaud, at Bletchley had pushed everything else aside.

The Viscount Grimmaud had, very publicly, confronted his daughter over her relationship with Tonks and ordered her to return home with him. He had brought several men with him, and they looked as if they had every intention of forcing her to go if she refused. The Viscount had called his daughter names that should never pass a gentleman’s lips and threatened that she would never see a penny of the family fortune, then ordered his men to take her, but he’d been forced to leave without her. Tonks had stood between them and, when he had been shoved aside by the Viscount’s men, he had been replaced by several other army engineers and a flock of very defensive Wrens. The standoff had only ended when General Dumbledore had arrived and ordered the Viscount and his men to leave.

“Miss Meadowes, thank you for your help too, and your support of Remus – I know you are a good friend to him. And James… thank you so much for everything. Over so many years, you have been like a brother to me and knowing you are there, that you’re always there… it means everything to me. Thank you.”

Potter looked as if he was about to say something, but Black stopped him.

“Don’t say it’s nothing, old thing, because it’s not. A chap couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

Black paused, holding Potter’s gaze for a few moments, before he turned to Lupin. He swallowed, looking nervous, before he finally began to speak.

“Remus, you… I… I find myself lost for words when I try to explain… how… what you did for me… I know…”

He shook his head and took a slow breath, before starting to speak again.

“Remus, old thing, without you, without your courage, I know that I would still be in jail. I expect you’ll tell me how much everyone else did and that really it was no bother at all and all of that rot, but… I know how hard it was for you… just telling me about your family. It must have been… I can’t imagine… well, now all of Bletchley knows, because you… I’m sorry, I’m really mucking this up, old thing… just… well, thank you. Thank you so much.”

Black was looking down as he spoke, glancing up only occasionally, and Lupin was just as bad. When their eyes met, they would lock eyes for longer than was appropriate, and Black would lose the thread of what he was saying, then both would look away. Lily wondered if they had been like this before Black had been arrested – if they had, she wondered how it could have taken Potter so long to realise the two were in love.

Soon after Black had delivered his thanks, there was a knock at the door. The Prewitt brothers barged into the room, noisily greeting everyone, and they were rapidly followed by some of the other men from hut six. Pettigrew was absent, however. She hadn’t seen him since Lupin had spoken to Dumbledore – in fact none of those they suspected were being blackmailed were at Bletchley anymore. Black appeared to be the only exception.

Following the men from hut six, there was a group of Wrens and a number of others Lily didn’t know. The room began to fill with people and chatter. She noticed Dorcas clinging close to Lupin so she made her way over.

“Have you been to one of these before?” Lily asked her.

“Once. Not exactly my scene, but it was amusing. And the music was rather good. Potter can actually sing.”

“Really?”

It wasn’t something she’d expected of him.

“The benefits of a public school education, what,” Potter said, coming up and joining the group. “I was a choirboy. We used to sound like little angels.”

“And then go and smoke at the back of the cemetery, I heard,” Lupin said, prompting a loud guffaw from Potter.

“Padfoot’s been sharing our secrets, what,” he said. “So, what can I get you all to drink?”

They all stared blankly at him for a few moments, before Lupin asked for red wine. Potter evidently decided that they all wanted wine, heading off and then returning with three glasses. He didn’t, as Lily had expected, plant himself next to her and witter on about polo. He evidently took his duties as host seriously and she watched as he moved around the room, offering drinks.

She wondered where Black was. She’d expected he would be attached to Lupin, but he was nowhere in sight. Eventually she spotted him by following Lupin’s gaze. He was cornered by some of the other hut six men, all of whom were no doubt telling him how they never for a moment thought he was guilty, even though they didn’t lift a finger to defend him when he’d been arrested. He kept glancing in Lupin’s direction, but didn’t seem to be able to get away.

“Right then, let’s get this show on the road, chaps. Padfoot?”

A look of relief crossed Black’s face as he excused himself from the group and made for the piano. He sat down and began playing immediately, without music, a song Lily recognised from the radio but couldn’t name. Potter, evidently, knew all the words.

Black played a couple of songs which were well-known, with at least half the people in the room joining in. Lupin discarded his half-drunk glass of wine on a nearby table and began clambering to his feet. He made his way over to Black, putting one crutch to the side and leaning against the piano. Black glanced up and gave a gentle smile, the kind of smile that Lily suspected was reserved for Lupin alone. She wondered if they had had a chance to speak yet.

The music went continued, from popular songs that everyone sang to a few solos from Andromeda Black and some others, with Black on the piano. Then Potter walked over to the piano, talking to Black, who then began to play a familiar tune.

“ _When two lovers meet in Mayfair, so the legends tell,  
Songbirds sing; winter turns to spring.  
Every winding street in Mayfair falls beneath the spell.  
I know such enchantment can be, 'cos it happened one evening to me:_

 _That certain night, the night we met  
There was magic abroad in the air  
There were angels dining at the Ritz  
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square_.”

Potter’s voice was quite different from what she had expected. She’d thought that he would be rowdy and tuneless, but his voice was smooth and melodic, capturing the nuance in the music as he stood before his landlady, hand on his heart. He sang to her for the first verse before turning and walking across to Lily.

“ _The moon that lingered over London town  
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown  
How could he know we two were so in love  
The whole darn world seemed upside down…_”

She wanted to roll her eyes at the absurdity of being serenaded by James Bloody Potter in his parlour, in front of his friends and landlady, but somehow it didn’t seem so ridiculous when he was so good at it. The music could have been written for him – it just sounded so _right_. Lily had always liked the song, but he brought it to life.

“ _Our homeward step was just as light  
As the tap-dancing feet of Astaire  
And, like an echo far away,  
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square_

 _I know 'cos I was there,  
That night in Berkeley Square._”

As the song came to a close, there was a round of applause from the room, but Potter didn’t acknowledge them, choosing instead to hold Lily’s gaze. She found it hard to break away, until Potter gave her a wink and turned back to the piano.

“So, Padfoot, are you going to have a turn? Dromeda could play for you, or we could do a madrigal?”

Black shook his head.

“Go on, you should.”

Potter walked over to him and grabbed him by the arm.

“Come on, Remus would love to hear you, I’m sure.”

Andromeda stood and walked over to him.

“Go on, Sirius,” she said. “I’ll play for you.”

Black scowled at them, then turned and dug through a stack of music.

“Alright then,” he said, opening a slim book of music and handing it to Andromeda.

She raised her eyebrows.

“Really, Sirius?”

He shugged.

“Why not? I love this piece. I love Purcell.”

“Oh, not that dirge,” Potter moaned.

Sirius ignored him, standing beside the piano as Andromeda sat down and played a single chord.

“ _In the black dismal dungeon of despair,  
Pined with tormenting care,  
Wracked with my fears,  
Drowned in my tears,  
With dreadful expectation of my doom  
And certain horrid judgement soon to come…_”

The piano was sparse and the melody angular, less a song than prose with musical notes emphasising the words. Lily wondered about the choice of song, not just the reference to being imprisoned, but also because it was religious in nature, and Black had not struck her as a pious man. But she couldn’t deny that he sang it well, conveying the intensity of the words without being overdramatic.

Lupin was completely enthralled, eyes never moving from Black’s face. Black, on the other hand, kept his eyes fixed ahead, only glancing at Lupin for brief moments. But they were telling moments – words that held some meaning – “ _a miracle of love, which I scarce hope for or expect_ ” – “ _far from thee, too near to hell_ ” – “ _thy sweet, kind, chiding look will change my heart_ ”. He glanced across at Potter, too, when there was a reference to the forgiveness of Peter – obviously Saint Peter, given the nature of the song, but she wondered if it meant something about Pettigrew.

There was a pause when the song ended, as if people weren’t sure they should applaud until Potter began to clap. Lupin appeared to be in a daze, still fixed on Black, while Black himself scuttled back to the piano.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Andromeda said, handing him a book of music. “Let’s sing some madrigals.”

Potter joined them, as well as another woman who had been introduced to Lily as ‘Emmeline’. They arranged themselves around the book and sang a couple of songs – these much more cheerful than the one Black had sung, bringing the room back to a lighter mood. Black then retreated to the piano, shadowed by Lupin, who leaned against the side of the piano, watching him as he played.

“He’s a fine singer, isn’t he?”

Lily turned to see McGonagall standing beside her.

“Who? Mr Black?”

McGonagall raised her eyebrows at Lily.

“Well, yes, he is, but I was meaning Mr Potter.”

“I don’t know much about music, I’m afraid. I don’t think I’d know the difference between a good singer and a bad one.”

“Well, you looked like you enjoyed it,” McGonagall said.

Lily could feel herself blush under the scrutiny.

“I do like that song. It reminds me of when I first arrived here, the first time I heard a nightingale. I’d never heard a nightingale in Cokeworth.”

“Is that where you are from? It’s a steel town, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s about it. Rather grim, I’m afraid. What about you? You’re from Scotland originally?”

“Yes, Inverness. Although it’s a long time since I’ve lived there.”

“And how long have you lived in Bletchley?”

“Oh, not long, just since the start of the war.”

“Why Bletchley?”

“Well, it seemed a better place than London, where I had been.”

Lily couldn’t put her finger on it, but she had the feeling McGonagall wasn’t telling the whole truth. Bletchley was an unremarkable place, and it seemed too much of a coincidence that this woman, who was clearly sharp as a tack, would choose to move there at exactly that time. She remembered Lupin’s aversion to accepting coincidence as an explanation.

“You were a schoolteacher, weren’t you? Where did you teach?”

“Oh, all around. I was with the Scottish Missionary Society, so I was in Africa, India, the Middle East… many places.”

Lily’s eyes widened. She hadn’t imagined that the prim woman would be so adventurous and she was suddenly filled with questions. But there was something that nagged at her, the fact she’d been in India, and the easy familarity between McGonagall and Potter.

“India? You didn’t happen to know the Potters, did you?”

Her mouth didn’t move, but McGonagall’s eyes crinkled into a smile.

“Well spotted, Miss Evans, very well done. Yes, I do know the Potters. First met James when he was just a baby.”

“Did you move to Bletchley because of Mr Potter? Because he was working here?”

“Once again, well done, Miss Evans. Mr Lupin is quite correct, you do have the mind of a detective. Yes, I moved down to keep an eye on Mr Potter. A young man like him… well, he does need someone to keep an eye on him. He can be rather naïve, and he’s too good-natured for his own good.”

“Oh…”

It made a lot of sense, now that she thought about it. Potter’s family was obscenely wealthy, if the tales she’d heard were to be believed, and Potter didn’t strike her as a man with a well-developed self-preservation instinct. He’d certainly failed to be suspicious that Pettigrew kept asking him for money.

“You really are wasted in the decoding room, Miss Evans. Tell me, have you thought about what you might do when this is all over?”

“I…I used to be a secretary, but I don’t want to go back to that. I want to do something more meaningful, perhaps be a teacher, or work in child welfare. I know that… well, some people may see that as me having ideas above my station. But Bletchley has changed the way I think about things like that.”

McGonagall gave her a proper smile this time.

“That’s most commendable of you, Miss Evans. Had you considered travelling? Doing that kind of work overseas?”

“Oh, I never considered that, Miss McGonagall. That’s… oh, I’d have to think about that.”

“And what about marriage? Children? Had you thought about that?”

Lily felt McGonagall’s eyes boring through her. This was the entire point of the conversation, she suspected, to ascertain exactly what Lily’s feelings were towards Potter.

“Well, yes, I do hope to marry and have children one day. I’m in no hurry though.”

Lily returned the stare, challenging McGonagall to say exactly what she meant. But the woman merely gave her a Mona Lisa smile in return.

“Regarding your future employment, I have a friend you should talk to. I think we may be able to find you a role more suited to your abilities in future.”

“Oh?”

McGonagall was looking thoroughly smug, and Lily wasn’t entirely sure what she meant.

“I’ll give Jasper a call in the morning. He’d be delighted to meet you, I’m sure.”

Lily wasn’t sure what to say to that. She had no idea who Jasper was, or why McGonagall thought she should talk to him, but she was beginning to doubt that McGonagall really was just a retired schoolteacher, albeit a rather adenturous one. The woman was altogether too shrewd for Lily to completely trust her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really looking forward to writing the next chapter. That's the ONE.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius has a surprised for Remus, but Remus has one of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yessssssss, finally, the chapter that I've been wanting to write and share since the beginning. I hope it brightens your day in this hard time.

Early February 1943

Sirius had been in an odd mood all through the shift. He seemed on edge, restless, jiggling his leg and shifting in his seat. He got up several times to get new ciphers without seeming to finish any of them. He hummed tunes that Remus didn’t recognise under his breath. He was unsettled, but he didn’t seem particular worried, so Remus tried to put the behaviour out of his mind and focus on his own cribs. It didn’t work.

Since Sirius’s return, Remus found it hard to take his eyes off him. Every turn of his head, every gesture, every one of those gentle smiles he would give Remus when their eyes met, had Remus transfixed. And Sirius kept noticing, glancing in Remus’s direction and catching his eye. Remus began to wonder if Sirius suspected something. Maybe that was why he was restless – he had noticed that Remus was always watching him, and it made him uncomfortable.

Remus tried to keep his eyes to himself after he’d thought of that possibility, but Sirius didn’t make it easy.

“I say, old thing, I’m parched. How about we get some tea?”

Remus looked up to see Sirius standing beside his desk, head tilted towards the door of the hut. Before Remus could refuse, Sirius was passing him his crutches, and it seemed like it would be bad manners to say no. So he walked with Sirius to hut two, while Sirius talked about how much he’d missed Bletchley and Remus tried to avoid being _quite_ so obvious with his staring.

“I’d never have thought I’d miss this old place, miss the watery porridge and soupy stews, the awful shifts, sitting in the hut all wrapped up and trying to keep from freezing… but one gets a different perspective, being away.”

He looked at Remus, who gave him a small smile before responding.

“I know I’ll miss it when it’s all over. The bank was alright, but it will seem pointless after this.”

“You’ll go back?”

“I suppose. What else would I do?”

Sirius seemed about to say something, then stopped himself.

“I think…” he said finally after a pause, “Well, there are lots of things that you could do. You’re smart and hardworking. You should consider what you might enjoy.”

Remus frowned. It had never crosses his mind to think about enjoyment as a reason for doing something.

“Oh. I don’t know. I would need to support myself. If I did something I enjoyed, how would I do that?”

“It is possible to get a job you’d enjoy, old thing. I…”

Sirius paused, seeming to change his mind.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it, what I’ll do when this is over. I haven’t decided yet, but… well, it gave me something to look forward to, you know, over the last few months.”

He took a mouthful of tea, made a face, then put it down again.

“I say, that’s something I won’t miss. Can’t wait to drink decent tea again.”

They walked back to the hut when they’d finished their tea, Sirius with his hands tucked deep in his pockets. His breath was already forming clouds in front of his face.

“Going to be a cold night,” he said, looking up at the clear sky, fading to yellow in the west.

He seemed about to say something again, but they were at the entrance to the hut. He opened the door for Remus, then followed him in silently. They returned to their desks and Remus returned to trying to focus on his work, while half-watching Sirius.

At the end of the shift, they had supper in hut two with James, then walked back to their digs together. Sirius was still in an odd mood.

“Think I’ll take a ride, old thing,” he said, holding the front door open for Remus, but not following him in.

Remus felt a knot of nerves inside him.

“Oh… please, be careful, won’t you? It’s getting dark.”

“I’m always careful,” Sirius said. “I know you imagine that I ride around like a racing driver, old thing, but I promise you I don’t.”

“Oh, oh, alright.”

Remus went inside and climbed the stairs under Umbridge’s disapproving gaze. In his room he sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. He couldn’t stop thinking of Sirius.

To distract himself, he got up and looked for a record to play. It didn’t work, as every piece of music reminded him of Sirius in some way. In the end, he picked up Elgar’s Enigma Variations – the very first piece that Sirius had played for him. There was no point in trying to put Sirius out of his mind.

He put the record on, then sat back down on the bed. As the music began to play, he closed his eyes and Sirius’s face appeared in his mind. There was no point in denying it any more. He was in love with Sirius – he had been for some time, he admitted to himself, finally. But the thought of it no longer filled him with fear.

It was his last remaining secret, Remus realised. He no longer limped around Bletchley crushed by the weight of his past, the shame of a father he had believed to be a coward, the guilt that he had lived when his brother had died, the fear that he would be rejected if he friends really _knew_ him. It was true that many at Bletchley had judged him, going silent when he walked into the room, looking away when they walked by, and even, in a few cases, spitting on the ground in front of him. But he could still hold his head high.

_Like father, like son._

His stepfather’s words carried no sting anymore, not since Dumbledore had spoken to him. He _was_ like his father, according to the General, but there was no shame in that. They’d spoken again, a couple of times, and Dumbledore had told him more of what his brother had told him of Lyall Lupin. He’d been as brave as any soldier, Dumbledore had said. He’d refused to fight because his Quaker religion forbade it, not out of cowardice. He’d saved many lives on the front lines, until his lungs had been destroyed when he’d given his gas mask to a soldier whose own was broken.

Remus couldn’t see how he was anything like his father but, when he heard Dumbledore speak, it made him want to be. It made him want to be brave.

Being brave, Remus knew, meant being honest with himself. As the music built up to a crescendo, he dragged himself to his feet and looked at himself in the spotty, old mirror that hung on the wall above the dresser.

“I’m queer,” he said to the face in the mirror. “I like boys instead of girls. Always have.”

He immediately heard the voice of the minister who’d used the word _abomination_ so abundantly and the rough voice of his stepfather calling him a _nancy_ whenever he saw him read a book. But then he heard James Potter, telling him that there were plenty of ‘ _jolly fine chaps_ ’ at Bletchley who liked ‘ _boys instead of girls_ ’. He heard Dumbledore sharply cutting off the naval man who’d referred to the ‘pack of queers’ working at Bletchley. He remembered Sirius telling him how Mrs Potter had told him that you couldn’t help who you fell in love with.

“I like boys instead of girls,” he said again to the face in the mirror. “And I’m in love with Sirius Black.”

Even saying it alone in his room, with music playing and in a hushed whisper so his landlady didn’t hear him, the words made his heart race. But then he thought of his father, the man who’d had the courage of his own convictions when society said he was wrong. What would his father have said, knowing his son was queer? Would he have encouraged Remus to pretend he was just like everyone else, to find a nice girl to marry and leave her wondering why her husband could hardly bear to touch her? He could never know, but Remus thought that his father would have been more like the Potters or the General. He looked away from his reflection, took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, then looked back and tried again.

“I’m in love with Sirius Black. Sirius… I’m in love with you.”

The thought of actually saying it to Sirius was still utterly terrifying, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to do it. But he knew that there was something he _must_ say to Sirius – an apology that he owed him. He’d hurt Sirius by avoiding him after that certain night, and he’d let Sirius think that he’d done something wrong, something that Remus didn’t want. And that was dishonest. Sirius had done nothing that Remus hadn’t wanted very, very much and, in fact, that Remus still wanted. Even if Sirius was no longer interested, Remus owed him that apology. Remus owed him the truth.

He was preparing for bed when there was a soft knock at his door.

“Sirius?” he said, as if there would be anyone else. Umbridge tried to avoid speaking with him, and if she had to, she’d call through the door in her irritating sing-song voice, as if she wanted to avoid the sight of him.

The door opened and Sirius leaned through. His cheeks and nose were touched red from the cold, his hair tousled by the wind, his eyes bright.

“I say, old thing, jolly good that you’re getting an early night. Rather hoped you’d be up to an early start tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Remus said.

He was sure that he was staring stupidly at Sirius, too flustered by the glint of mischief on his face to say anything more.

“Got something to show you, old thing. A surprise.”

“What is it?” Remus asked, then wanted to kick himself for saying something so stupid.

“Can’t tell you, that would spoil the surprise. All will be revealed tomorrow morning, though. Be ready at five. Anyway, I’ll let you get your beauty sleep now, old boy. Sweet dreams.”

Sirius winked at him, then softly closed the door, leaving Remus blushing, but thankfully with nobody to see it. What on earth could Sirius mean? And how on earth was he going to sleep when he was wondering about Sirius’s surprise.

He did sleep, a little, but it wasn’t restful, and he kept having dreams about Sirius leaving Bletchley without him. He’d try and catch him up, at least to say goodbye, but somehow he kept getting later and later, and he still wasn’t getting anywhere. By four, he was wide awake and dressed, puzzling over a cipher he’d been working on, in the hope he’d distract himself. He couldn’t take anything from the hut, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t work. He sat on the uncomfortable chair and closed his eyes, shuffling letters around and trying to find something that made sense.

Sirius knocked on his door a few minutes before five.

“You ready, old thing? Got your coat?”

Remus clambered to his feet and moved towards the wardrobe to get his overcoat.

“Here, let me,” Sirius said, pulling out his coat, then looking at it with alarm.

“This will never do, old thing. You’ll catch your death of cold. Don’t you have anything warmer?”

Remus bit back a snappy response – of course he didn’t have anything warmer, if he did, he’d be wearing it. He knew that Sirius couldn’t imagine not having enough money to buy whatever he needed, and it wasn’t his fault that he’d been born to wealth and Remus, to poverty.

“No, no, of course you don’t,” Sirius said, before Remus said anything. “Here, wear this.”

He slipped out of his Barbour jacket and was helping Remus into it before he realised what was happening.

“But then you’ll freeze,” Remus said, trying to pretend that the jacket didn’t feel wonderful – heavy, warm and smelling like Sirius.

“Got another, getting a bit old, but it will do.”

Sirius bounded from Remus’s room and was back in a few minutes, wearing a jacket which appeared almost identical.

“Ready, old thing?”

Remus nodded and followed Sirius out of his room and down the stairs. Sirius opened the front door and held it for Remus as he went through, stopping as he saw Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside. The street was lighter than usual, with a bright moon, and Remus could see something attached to the side of the motorcycle – a sidecar, he realised, with a single wheel, a leather seat and a basket attached to the back.

Sirius stood beside it, grinning, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“What do you think, old thing? I borrowed if off a chap I knew at Oxford. He might sell it to me.”

“Oh.”

“Will it be alright for you, do you think? The seat’s quite low, but it’s quite comfortable, not like sitting on the back of the bike. We can strap your crutches to the side.”

Sirius appeared to take Remus’s silence for reluctance and his face fell.

“If you don’t want to… well, that’s alright, I just thought… you can’t go on the bike, and…”

“No, no, I do. I’d love to,” Remus said. “I just… did you borrow this for me?”

“Yes, of course, you silly thing. Here, come on, let me help you.”

Sirius was smiling again, fussing around Remus, checking he was comfortable, checking the sidecar door was latched, tucking a blanket over Remus’s knees. When he’d finished fussing like an old woman, he got on the motorcycle and started the engine.

“Righty ho, old thing. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Remus said, unable to keep a grin off his own face at the expression on Sirius’s.

Then they were moving, the noise of the engine filling the street, surely loud enough to wake half of Bletchley. Remus held on, startled by the noise and speed. Sirius turned his head and leaned down towards him.

“I say, we’re hardly moving at all yet.”

“Please, keep watching the road, Sirius,” Remus replied, feeling as if they were going to upturn as they went around the corner.

Sirius gave a toss of his head and laughed, and then they were heading out of Bletchley.

After a few minutes, Remus began to relax. On the open road, the engine didn’t seem so loud, and he could see quite well in the moonlight, now his eyes had adjusted. Sirius did appear to be riding carefully, braking smoothly and accelerating without excessive noise. He would glance down at Remus occasionally, as if to check he was alright, and Remus would smile back in reassurance. He was alright, in fact, he was better than alright. He understood now why Sirius was always in a better mood when he came back from a ride. Remus had never felt so free as he did now, sitting beside Sirius with the wind in his hair.

He couldn’t believe that Sirius had done this for him. He’d actually found a way that Remus, with his useless, broken body, could experience the joy that Sirius felt when riding. It was such a kind, thoughtful thing to do, but it was more than that. This had taken planning – Sirius must have been working on it for some time, to track down a sidecar that would fit his bike and that he could borrow. He’d even said he might buy it.

Remus took a long slow breath in, then let it out again. He knew what he needed to do with this new-found sense of freedom. There would never be a better time to tell Sirius how he felt – to tell Sirius how much he’d wanted him that night all those months ago, and that he still wanted him just as much, if not more.

They rode for some time, perhaps nearly an hour, at first on the flat but then winding upwards through rolling hills, until they reached a road end with a commanding view of the moonlit landscape. Sirius stopped the bike and dismounted, walking around to unstrap Remus’s crutches and help him out of the sidecar. He’d stiffened up, sitting in the low seat, and found himself leaning on Sirius for support.

“You alright, old thing?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. It will just take me a moment to get steady.”

He willed the ache in his hips to go away, and then took the crutches. He pulled back from Sirius, attempted to stand as upright as he could, and looked Sirius in the eye.

“Sirius, I need to say something to you.”

His face immediately creased into a worried frown.

“No, no, Sirius, don’t worry, honestly, it’s just… well, I owe you an apology.”

Sirius shook his head.

“Whatever could you need to apologise for, old thing?”

“Sirius, I know I said we would never speak of it… but, that night… you remember, don’t you? When we… you know.”

“I remember that night, Remus,” Sirius said, his voice soft and his face still filled with anxiety.

“Afterwards, Sirius, I let you think… well, I avoided you, I pushed you away. I let you think that I regretted it, that perhaps I hadn’t really wanted to, that I didn’t ever want to do anything like that with you again. But… well, that was wrong. I’m so sorry, Sirius, that I pushed you away, that I let you believe that I didn’t want to think about it, to talk about. I’m so sorry I hurt you and let you think I didn’t want it, Sirius. I wanted it so much, I wanted _you_ so much, that I was… I was terrified.”

Remus glanced down and swallowed the feeling of panic that was rising up inside him, before looking back up at Sirius’s face. He still looked worried.

“The thing is, Sirius… well, I’d always been told it was wrong, so I felt as if I’d done something dreadful, as if we’d done something dreadful. So, even though it was something that I wanted, I thought I had to make sure it didn’t happen again. I felt as if I had to make sure I wasn’t tempted, and every moment I spent with you I was so dreadfully tempted. I just… I just wanted you to touch me again… to kiss me again.”

He took a deep breath and thought about the way he’d spoken to himself in the mirror last night.

“I’m queer, Sirius. I always have been, but I was afraid to admit it. Now, though, it’s time I stopped being afraid. I need to say this. I… I like you, Sirius. I’ve wanted you for so long… I’ve wanted you to touch me, to hold me, to kiss me…”

Now, Remus could feel himself losing control. He’d said his apology, inarticulate as it was, and now he was just rambling. And Sirius was just staring at him in stunned silence.

“Yes, well, I’m sorry I hurt you, Sirius. I’m sorry I was a coward. I promise that I’ll do better from now on.”

Sirius was still staring, eyes wide in shock, then his face suddenly broke into a smile. It was as radiant as the sunrise, bright and filled with hope, bathing Remus in its glow. Then he lifted his hand and touched Remus’s cheek with a gloved finger.

“Oh, Remus,” he said in a choked whisper, and leaned in to kiss him.

Remus could remember the last time, but this was nothing like it. While that time, months ago, had felt incredible, Remus had still felt the shame nagging at the back of his mind. This was different. Sirius’s lips were soft and warm, and he felt safe. It felt right, it felt as if he was home, and Remus had _never_ felt as if he was home. Remus felt Sirius’s arms around him, and he leaned in, letting Sirius bear some of his weight as he dropped his crutches so that he could wrap his own arms around Sirius.

It felt as if they had kissed for hours, standing on the hill beside the motorbike, before Sirius drew away. Even the look in his eyes made Remus tremble inside – they were filled with wonder, as if he’d never seen anything quite so remarkable as Remus. Then he grinned and gave a slight shake of his head.

“I say, old thing, you’ve rather stolen my thunder. I planned all this, tracked down that sidecar, brought you up here to see the beauty of the English countryside in the moonlight, I’ve got a blanket for us to sit on, a thermos of hot cocoa and a flask of brandy, and I was going to tell you how I felt about you and jolly well convince you that there was no shame in it. And then you got in first, old thing. What ever am I going to do with you?”

Remus tilted his head to one side.

“Really?”

“Of course, you silly thing. Surely you must have noticed that I can’t take my eyes off you?”

Remus shook his head.

“Sometimes I wondered, but… well, I thought that was because I couldn’t stop staring at you.”

“I… well, I did think, maybe, that you were, but I… I didn’t want to get my hopes up. But then Prongs… he told me that I should tell you. I wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t let me hear the end of it until I agreed. Quite sure of himself, he was.”

“Oh.”

Remus blushed red. He had no idea that he’d been so obvious.

“So… so James knows about this?”

“Yes, of course. He got the cocoa and brandy, plus some biscuits that Minnie made and even a block of chocolate. I just… I still can’t believe that I was worrying myself about how I would convince you and then you get in before me. Awfully bad form, old chap.”

Sirius mouth turned down, but it was clearly a false frown. Remus could see the smile in his eyes.

“Well then, I suppose we will just have to pretend I didn’t say anything at all. Go on then, Sirius. Win me over.”

Sirius laughed.

“Oh, I can assure you, I will. Here, take your crutches and let’s start this again.”

Sirius bustled about, lifting the basket from the back of the sidecar and pulling out a heavy blanket from underneath, which he laid over the grass, overlooking a lake which glowed silver in the moonlight. He helped Remus down, then tucked another blanket over his legs. He sat down himself and began to unpack the basket, filling two mugs with steaming cocoa from the thermos, then splashing brandy into both mugs. He handed a mug to Remus then offered him a biscuit from a tin. Remus took a bite and then swallowed a mouthful of the cocoa and brandy, feeling it warm him from the inside out.

“Remus,” Sirius said, after swallowing a good mouthful of cocoa, “these last few months have given me a lot of time to think. I’ve thought about a lot of things, but my mind kept going back to one thing in particular. Well, one person in particular, namely you, old thing.

“You fascinated me, Remus, from the first moment we met. You were so quiet and polite, but I could see that there was so much more too you. I could see it in your eyes, I knew they saw everything and I could tell that you were the sort of man who really thought about things. And then Umbridge made that awful comment about cowering like a dog, and I saw the way that you held your head up. I knew that you were not the kind of man to flinch at danger – I could see how strong you were. And I just had to get to know you.”

Remus realised that his mouth had fallen open in surprise. Sirius had thought like that about him when they’d first met? It was true, Remus had been fascinated from his first sight of Sirius, but then Sirius was handsome and charismatic. Everyone turned to look when Sirius Black walked into the room. Nobody looked at Remus, unless it was to notice the crutches and the scars. Or that was what he always assumed.

“I can see you are surprised, old thing, but you shouldn’t be. You’re a man of mystery, an enigma, like… like a gift to be unwrapped where you can’t work out what is inside, but you know it’s going to be something special.”

Remus could feel himself blushing. He could barely believe that Sirius felt like that about him. What on earth could he see in a man like Remus?

“And then when we started talking, I knew I was right. It was so amazing getting to know you. You seemed to understand me – when something was important to me, like a piece of music that had a special meaning, you understood what I was trying to say, instead of staring at me like I’d lost my mind, which is what most people do, honestly. And the things you told me – I could see that you didn’t tell many people, but you chose to share them with me, and it was… that was so special to me.”

Sirius looked away and shook his head, before lifting it again.

“Listen to me, just rambling on… I promised myself I wouldn’t do this. I promised myself that I wouldn’t get caught up in everything and embarrass you, but I have, haven’t I?”

Remus wanted to deny it, to tell Sirius that it was alright, but he knew that he was glowing scarlet, and surely Sirius could tell, even with only the moon for light.

“Well… so, where was I… oh, yes, I felt as if we were getting closer, and I… I started to think that you felt the same as I did… I was almost sure of it, but… well, I was a little afraid of spooking you. It seemed as if you’d been brought up quite strictly, and I thought you might think it was wrong. I made a mistake, Remus, that night. I let things go to far because it was what I wanted–“

“Sirius, I wanted the same thing.”

“Yes, but I scared you off. And then…”

“I’m sorry, Sirius, I really am.”

“Please, don’t apologise again. I’m the one who needs to apologise to you… I was upset at you and I really had no right to be. I understand how it feels, to know that you’re not like other men, and I… I… I’m sorry, Remus, I got angry at you and I tried to make you jealous. I don’t know what I was thinking. I suppose I hoped that you would see me with other men and get jealous and then you’d… well, it was a stupid thing to do. Stupid and unkind.”

“I don’t understand, Sirius. You were trying to… to get my attention, with those other men?”

Sirius looked down and sighed.

“Foolish, I know. It wasn’t a good way to behave, but… I have a history of that kind of thing, I’m afraid. I’m not like you, old thing, I don’t have your strength. I get angry at people, and then I do things that are… that aren’t kind, or sensible… you’re such a good person, Remus, and I don’t deserve someone like you.”

“No, no, Sirius. You’re so… you’re amazing. You’re–“

“Please, Remus, I need to explain this. I haven’t always been nice to other people, and I need to acknowledge that. I had a lot of time to think about it, in prison, and I’m going to do things differently now. Well, I’ll probably make mistakes, but… I’ll try. I’ll put things right when I go wrong. I know I can do this now. And I want to, for you.”

He gave Remus a small smile, then lifted his gloved hand to Remus’s cheek. He pulled his hand back, then removed his glove, and brushed his thumb across Remus’s lips, traced his scars with his fingertips.

“I know you don’t see it, Remus, but you are so beautiful.”

Remus shook his head.

“I don’t know how you can say that.”

“I know you can’t see it right now,” Sirius said. “But I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

He leaned in and gave Remus the softest of kisses. His hand stroked Remus’s hair, then slid down to the back of his neck, before he drew away.

“That night, Remus, when we… I called you my moon. It’s as if you glow, shining in the darkness and lighting my way. I look at you and I see… It’s hard to explain, but when I was in prison, you were my light when the nights were dark and lonely. I thought about you. I imagined you were there, reciting war poetry to me. I thought about all you had suffered, and I knew that I would get through. And I did.”

He gave another smile and Remus stared back, lost for words.

“Here, keep drinking your cocoa. Don’t want you to freeze, my moon.”

Obediently, Remus swallowed another mouthful of cocoa.

“Uh, thank you.”

“I say, listen to me, rambling on again. I’m embarrassing you, aren’t I?”

“Just a little. I don’t mind.”

They smiled at each other, then sat for a few moments in awkward silence.

“Do you mind if I…”

Sirius moved closer to Remus and put an arm around him.

“It’s a cold night. I mustn’t let you freeze.”

He wriggled around so he was sitting behind Remus, legs either side of him. He slid his arms around Remus’s waist and pulled him close. Remus could feel his warm breath against his neck.

“Better, my Moony?”

“What if someone comes?”

“It’s half past six, on a back road in the Chiltern Hills. There’s nobody for miles.”

“Oh, is that where we are? I’ve heard people talk about coming up here for walks, but I’ve never been. It’s so lovely.”

“It is, isn’t it? I drive up here, sometimes, when I need to clear my head. I park up the bike and watch the sun rise, listening to music in my mind. Something like _The Lark Ascending_ , you know. Always wanted to bring the gramophone up here and play it. Maybe we could do that, some time, with the sidecar.”

“Oh, but you wouldn’t want to break it.”

“I’d be careful. After all, I’d have you with me and I wouldn’t want to break you either.”

“Oh, well… yes, that would be amazing, I think. I’d have never thought to do that.”

They sat in silence again, Remus listening to Sirius breathe, feeling his chest pressed to his back and marvelling that they were sitting there, together. It felt like a dream, and Remus wondered whether, when the dawn broke, Sirius would disappear like the curls of mist which burned off in the light of day. But he felt real enough, with his strong arms holding Remus tight, and anyway, Remus didn’t normally have dreams that were this perfect.

“I still can’t believe it, old thing, that I brought you up here to declare my feelings for you and then you got in first. I never thought you’d do that.”

“No, I never thought I would either, until… well, I think I’ve learned some things as well. I found out some things about my father… they’ve changed my perspective, I suppose.”

“Oh?”

Sirius took Remus’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

“Will you tell me, Remus?”

Remus nodded.

“You remember that I mentioned the hospital orderly that I used to talk to? Aberforth Dumbledore – I said I thought he must be related to the General?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“They are brothers. The General told me, and he also said… he told me that Aberforth knew my father.”

“Really? How remarkable.”

“Apparently Aberforth saw the name Lupin on one of the ward lists, and sought me out, thinking that I might be a relative of a man he’d known in the Great War. He befriended me because he’d known my father, then he asked his brother if he could find work for me. That was awfully kind of him.”

“He could surely see you would suit this work. You said he used to collect the crosswords from the paper for you, and that you played chess together.”

“Yes, but I’m not even sure he knows what it is we do here. It’s awfully hush hush, and I can’t see the General breaking his own rules.”

“No, that’s true. But he probably knew the type of men he was looking for. So, what did he tell you about your father?”

“Aberforth told me nothing – he never even mentioned my father. It was only when… it was after I told him about Dolohov and the blackmail, the General mentioned my father. Only then did I find out that Aberforth knew him.”

“How remarkable. All this time and he never mentioned it.”

“He assumed that Aberforth had spoken to me. When he realised that he hadn’t, then he told me himself.”

Remus told the story then, about his father, Aberforth, Fenrir Greyback, how his father had been gassed, and Sirius listened through it holding Remus’s hands in his. When he’d finished, Sirius sat in silence for some time.

“I… that’s… I hardly know what to say. It’s so awful, what happened to you, and this just seems to make it ten times worse. But… I don’t know, it’s wonderful as well. That you’ve had a chance to learn the truth about your father.”

“It’s strange, but I used to be angry at him. It felt as he had… I suppose I felt as if his life and his actions had hurt my mother and me. I wished he had been different, that he’d gone to war like other men. But now… well, I have a different perspective. I’m proud that he stood up for what he believed was right. I still wonder why he… why he ended things the way he did, but I know that he must have been suffering greatly to do such a thing. But the strangest thing is, seeing my father differently – it seems to have changed the way I see myself.”

Remus looked down, to where Sirius’s gloved hand was wrapped around his. He still couldn’t quite believe it was real.

“I’d never have had the courage to say anything to you before. It felt as if… I felt like I never deserved to have anything good. I never deserved to be happy. I certainly wouldn’t have had the courage to go against the norms of society. But knowing what kind of man my father was, it makes me feel as if I can.”

“Remus… my love…”

Sirius’s voice sounded choked as he suddenly wriggled away from Remus. Startled, Remus turned, to see Sirius on his knees, eyes wide and bright with unshed tears.

“My Moony, you must never say that. You must never say you don’t deserve happiness. You do, more than anyone I know. You deserve the best of everything, and it breaks my heart to think what life has done to you.”

“It’s alright, Sirius, it really is. My life hasn’t been so bad, really.”

“I just… just please, don’t ever think… well, that you deserved all the bad parts of your life. None of them were because of you.”

Remus nodded, and then Sirius pulled him close into a fierce hug.

“I just want to hold you and make everything right. I know I can’t, but I wish I could.”

“But you do. When I’m with you, I feel… I do feel as if everything is right.”

Sirius pulled back so he could look Remus in the eye, then kissed him, fiercely, as if he wanted to drive all other thoughts from Remus’s mind. One hand held the back of Remus’s head, the other was around his waist, pulling his body close. This time, Remus kissed back, just as fiercely. They kissed until Remus felt as if the earth was falling away, and he was hanging in space, orbiting Sirius, anchored to that irresistible pull that Remus had felt from the moment they’d met.

“Oh, my word,” Sirius said, in a hushed tone, when they’d finally moved apart.

Remus was silent. He didn’t think he could remember how to speak. He just stared at Sirius until he stroked his face, then tucked himself back behind Remus and rested his chin on Remus’s shoulder.

“I had a letter from one of my uncles,” he said, finally. “When I was in prison.”

“I didn’t know any of your family was in contact with you, except Andromeda.

“Well, Uncle Alphard, he lives in New York. I hear from him occasionally, as does Andromeda. She must have told him about what happened. He said… he asked me to come to the United States, once I got out of prison.”

Remus felt his stomach drop. He’d only just got Sirius back – he’d never considered that he could lose him again.

“Don’t worry, my Moony. I told him no, of course, not now. Our work here is too important and… well, of course, I want to be here with you.”

Remus realised that he had tensed up. Sirius stroked the back of his hand, then held it in his.

“But after the war, I think I’d like to get away from here, away from England. My Uncle works in musical theatre, on Broadway. He said they can always use good répétiteurs – I think I could do that, I think I’d like doing that.”

Remus kept breathing, trying to make his lungs suck in air when they were being crushed. He would have this time, at least, with Sirius, until the end of the war. Who knew when that might be.

“I’d like you to come with me, my Moony, my love. It would be… well, I think that things are freer over there, especially working in the theatre. We could be together.”

“You mean… go to New York with you?”

“Yes, of course. You didn’t think I’d consider going without you, did you?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Please, say yes. I think you’d love it. I could play the piano and you could do whatever you wanted. You could go to university there, find a job you enjoyed. But if… well, if you want to stay here, then I’ll stay too.”

“No… no, that would be… I mean… yes, I’ll go with you. To New York.”

Sirius made a small sound, almost a squeal, muffled because his face was pressed into the back of Remus’s neck. For a moment, he just held Remus so tight, but then he pulled back.

“You’ve made me so happy today, Remus, you’ve no idea.”

Remus twisted his head around to look at Sirius, with his shining eyes and radiant smile. Sirius looked how he felt inside. It was a feeling of such pure joy and hope, a feeling that Remus have never expected to experience.

“Oh, oh, Sirius… my love. I rather think I do.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily attends a memorial service for Fleamont Potter, and comes to a realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a touch of angst here, but there's a hearty helping of happiness too, so I hope it brings you some joy with all that's going on.

February 1943

Lily was almost certain that Lupin was wearing a new suit.

She had definitely never seen him wear the suit before, nor anything similar. It was a dark navy blue, almost black, and in a fine wool which showed no sign of wear. It wasn’t extravagant – there were no cuffs or pocket flaps and the cut was narrow – but Lily was quite sure that Lupin wouldn’t have bought it for himself. Every other item of clothing she’d ever seen him in was shabby and worn, and most fit poorly, as if they had been cast off from someone else.

Whether it was the clothing, or something else, Lupin looked different. He looked years younger, and he’d lost the haunted expression that she realised he’d been wearing for months. There was a brightness in his eyes, and he smiled more readily. He looked happy. Today, his expression was sombre, as appropriate to the occasion. But he no longer looked like a man who’d been crushed by life.

Black, in constrast, looked awful. His black suit only served to emphasise that he was as pale as a ghost. He was holding on to a couple of music books, clutching them to his chest as if he was drowning and they were all that was keeping him afloat.

“Good Lord, Black, whatever’s the matter?” Dorcas said, dispensing with any kind of formality or manners, as was her way.

“He’s just nervous,” Lupin said. “James convinced him to sing.”

“You sung at the party a few weeks back, though,” Lily said. “That was alright wasn’t it?”

“Hadn’t planned on singing,” Black said, mumbling slightly and looking down. “So I didn’t have to think about it beforehand.”

Lupin took one hand off his crutches and rested it on Black’s shoulder.

“It will be fine, Sirius. Remember, you’re doing this because it’s important to James, and his father would have appreciated it. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. You’re not giving a concert.”

Black looked up at Lupin and gave him a wan smile.

“I know. I just.. you know…”

Lupin smiled back and something unspoken passed between them. She’d noticed that something had shifted, they were no longer watching each other then glancing away when their eyes met, engaged in rather obvious mutual pining. Now, they seemed to share a private language of glances, smiles and touches. She wondered whether Dorcas, Mary or Marlene had noticed. She suspected that it wouldn’t have crossed Mary’s or Marlene’s mind, but Dorcas, she suspected, knew more than she was letting on.

“Right, then, we’ll leave you to it, shall we?” Lily said, moving past them and entering the hall.

They took a seat near the middle of the hall, which was already quite full. It seemed like a lot of people for a memorial service for a man who’d died in India and, as far as she could tell, hadn’t set foot in Britain for decades. She knew that Potter was a popular man at Bletchley – whether that was his wealth or his personality, she was never certain – but she hadn’t expected there to be so many wanting to honour his father. Almost everyone from hut six was there, as well as others she had met at Potter’s party. But there were many more she barely recognised or didn’t know at all.

“Big crowd,” she said, turning to Dorcas, who nodded.

“I thought it was odd he would choose to have it in a hall rather than church, but I can see why, now,” Marlene said. “I don’t think that this crowd would have fitted in to St Mary’s.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that,” Lily said. “James’s parents are atheists. His father didn’t mind singing hymns, that kind of thing, but they were definitely not churchgoers.”

“Really? How unusual,” Marlene said.

“His mother was brought up in a Catholic orphanage, he said. He told me she was grateful to have been fed and clothed but… well, she didn’t like what came with it, didn’t get a very positive view of religion. And his father, when he was growing up, he saw a lot of suffering, famines and suchlike. He told James that he saw that hardship and hunger did not discriminate on the basis of religion. Hindu, Muslim, Christian or no religion at all suffered equally – if wealth was taken into account. So a rich Hindu would not starve any more than a rich Christian, but a poor Christian would suffer as much as a poor Muslim. Not only that, but the wealthy Hindu and Muslim was just as likely to care for the poor and suffering as the wealthy Christian.”

“Oh,” said Dorcas. “That’s an interesting way to look at it. We don’t tend to get exposed to those different views here.”

Marlene nodded thoughtfully, but Mary was giving Lily an odd look.

“What?” Lily said, looking at her friend with suspicion.

“It’s _James_ now, is it?” Mary said. “You’ve become quite friendly.”

“Oh, I suppose… yes, I suppose I have. He’s not as bad as I thought he was.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to tell, it’s just… he’s not been as annoying lately. Probably had his mind on other things, with all that’s gone on in the last few months.”

“Hmm, are you sure?” Mary said, with a skeptical arch to her eyebrows. “Are you sure you aren’t keen on him?”

“What? Of course not,” Lily said, but Mary looked unconvinced.

It made Lily pause – she wasn’t keen on Potter, was she? Yes, she found that she didn’t mind him as she once had, but she felt the same about Black. Neither of them turned out to be quite as bad as she had thought, but that didn’t mean she fancied either of them.

“Is he still declaring himself to be in love with you at every opportunity?” Marlene asked.

“Well… not exactly. Not so much. He’s probably going off me and that’s why he’s being less annoying.”

“Oh, really?” Dorcas said sharply. “What about when he sang to you at the party?”

“Ooo, I didn’t hear about that,” Mary said. “Do tell.”

“It didn’t mean anything. Quite a few people sang solos, including him. When he sang, he started off as if he was serenading his landlady, then he moved on to me. But it was… I don’t know, it wasn’t…”

The more Lily thought about it, the harder it was to explain. She’d enjoyed having him sing to her. Yes, he was a little theatrical and silly in the way he performed, but he was also rather good at it. She wouldn’t mind it he did it again.

“What did he sing?” Marlene asked.

“A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square,” Dorcas said, when Lily was a little slow to respond.

“You love that song,” Marlene said. “Do you think someone told him that?”

“I don’t think they did,” Dorcas replied. “I went to another party and he sang it there too.”

“See, just a coincidence,” said Lily. “I wouldn’t read anything into it.”

“It’s one of his favourites,” Dorcas added.

“Oh, that’s sweet, it’s a favourite song for both of you,” Mary said. “You’ve probably got tons in common that you don’t know about.”

“It’s just a song,” Lily said. “I don’t know why you are so keen on us getting together, all of a sudden. You always thought Potter was an idiot as much as I did.”

“Yes, but you just said he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was. And even if he is an idiot, he’s a rich idiot.”

Lily was relieved so see a gleam of mischief in Mary’s eyes.

“That’s true,” Lily replied. “Given a choice between a rich idiot and a poor idiot, I’d sooner the rich one. But I’d really rather a man who wasn’t an idiot at all.”

“Oh, look, there he is now,” Marlene said.

Lily looked up quickly, hoping he wasn’t standing right beside her. She really didn’t want him to overhear the conversation. But Potter was some distance away, walking down the aisle between Black and his landlady. The group walked slowly, accomodating Lupin, who was beside Black.

“Good gracious, it looks as if he actually combed his hair.”

“Mary, you’re dreadful,” Marlene said.

Potter did indeed look as if he had made more of an effort on his appearance than usual. His hair, as Mary had said, was combed and slicked down, and he had on a smart black suit and black shoes. Even his socks were matched, for once. He looked thoroughly respectable, like the choirboy he had once been and, Lily had to admit, rather dashing. However she realised she preferred his usual look, wild hair and mismatched socks included. She found his disregard of his own appearance refreshing.

“ _Oh, bother_ ,” she thought, realising the direction her thoughts were going, “ _I do fancy him_”.

“Golly, is that Peter Pettigrew?” Dorcas said. “I didn’t expect to see him here.”

Lily turned to see Pettigrew entering the hall, then slinking along the back and taking a seat.

“No, me neither,” Lily said. “Although I know he’s spoken to Potter, who seems to have forgiven him. I’m not so sure Black has though, especially since it was Pettigrew that gave away Lupin’s secrets.”

“Oh, I see.”

Dorcas was silent a moment, something of a frown on her face. When she spoke, it was quietly, so just Lily would hear.

“Lily, you helped get Black released, knew he was innocent. Do you… how well do you know him?”

“Not really, to be honest. I was sure he wasn’t a spy, but… I hadn’t had much to do with him, not before he went to prison. Why?”

Dorcas frowned.

“I… I just wonder what sort of a man he is.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, he’s always had a bit of a reputation. You know, dissipated aristocrat… always seemed rather self-centred and arrogant, that kind of thing.”

“Yes, I had that impression too.”

“You had that impression. Does that mean you don’t now?”

“I think… not so much as I used to. I suppose he’s a bit like Potter, not as bad as he first appears.”

“Oh.”

Dorcas was still frowning.

“What is is, Dorcas?”

“It’s just… I am rather fond of Lupin. He’s a good man, a good friend… I don’t want… he’s had so much hardship in his life, and Black is… well, a spoiled rich kid. I worry that Remus is going to get hurt.”

Lily’s eyes widened at Dorcas’s words. She had wonder whether Dorcas had noticed, but she’d never expected her to say something about it.

“Oh, come on, Lily. Surely you’ve noticed how they are.”

“Oh, yes, yes I have. I just… I didn’t expect you to say something about it.”

Dorcas raised her eyebrows.

“If something needs to be said, then it should be said.”

Lily smiled.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m just not used to people speaking of such things. But, well, Potter mentioned something to me.”

“Potter? You mean regarding Lupin and Black?”

“Yes, it was before Black was released. You know, for a while, he was awfully set on you and Lupin getting together. Most disappointed that neither you nor Lupin seemed interested.”

“Oh dear, that’s rather unfortunate.”

Dorcas was definitely suppressing a grin. Lily suspected that she would have laughed out loud had the situation not been inappropriate.

“Yes. Potter was determined that Lupin should find a nice girl who would look after him. He was questioning me about whether I’d seen any sign of what sort of girl he would like, and whether I had any friends who might be suitable.”

“Oh, good Lord. You mean he hadn’t noticed? I would have thought it was quite obvious he had no interest in finding a nice girl.”

“I… I don’t think that kind of thing is obvious to everyone, you know. I didn’t even know about Black, and that was apparently an open secret.”

“I suppose. But I would have thought Potter… with him being such chums with Black…”

“He said he found Lupin hard to read, since he’s so stiff upper lip about everything. It was only when we were speaking, he suddenly realised that Lupin had never shown the least interest in girls but was very fond of Black. I have to say, he was delighted at the thought. Seemed to think they would be perfect for each other.”

“Oh, really? That’s rather… progressive thinking. I know Black’s his friend, but… oh, I wouldn’t have expected that of Potter.”

“Yes, he was quite… well, almost protective of them. I suppose I was a bit shocked but he… he said that he didn’t know why people made a fuss about it. ‘ _You can’t help who you fall in love with_ ,’ he said.”

“Oh, well I suppose that is… encouraging. I just worry, with Black’s reputation, that he… I suppose I wonder if he will get bored of Lupin.”

“I don’t know. Potter said that he – Black, that is – thinks the world of Lupin. And…”

Lily thought about what Potter had said, remembering the reference to Black being locked in his room by his parents.

“I’m not sure that he, that Black… I get the impression from Potter that Black hasn’t had things too easy at times. And if you think back to that speech Black made to us, thanking us, he obviously knew about Lupin’s hardship. Lupin had talked to him about it, long before he was forced to tell us. So… maybe there’s a bit more to Black than first appears.”

Dorcas was silent for a few moments.

“I hope so,” she said eventually. “I’m just not sure I trust him.”

Lily wasn’t sure what to say in response, but she was saved by the sight of General Dumbledore walking up to the podium at the front of the hall. He paused for a moment, and the chatter died away.

“Thank you all for coming today, for joining us in remembering and honouring Monty Potter. To begin with, will you all be upstanding and join in singing Jerusalem.”

Black, who had seated himself at the piano, began to play, and the hall rose as one to sing. When they were finished, they sat down again, and the General cleared his throat.

“To being with, I’d like to say a few words about Monty Potter myself. I first met him when he was a young man in the army, in India. I must admit, my first impressions of the young Monty were not favourable. He struck me as sheltered and spoiled, and hopelessly disorganised. His uniform always looked as if he had slept in it, and combing his hair seemed beyond him. That impression may be familiar to those of you who know his son.”

Here, Dumbledore glanced down at Potter and gave him a smile. Lily wondered what he made of the description of his father, and himself.

“But I soon learned that my first impressions were entirely superficial. Most young men of his background tended to do what was easy, but when given the choice between what was easy and what was right, Monty would always do the right thing. He was thoughtful and a good observer. He may have had a sheltered life growing up, but the army soon exposed him to the realities of the world, and his response, I think, was telling. He reacted with genuine concern for who were those suffering. With his fellow men, he looked beyond first impressions, taking men…”

Here Dumbledore glanced down at McGonagall and raised his eyebrows slightly.

“And women, too, not for who they were born but who they had grown to be.”

Dumbledore went on, giving a precis of Potter senior’s life and achievements, before calling on Andromeda Black to sing.

The next person to speak was someone that Lily didn’t know, who spoke of Monty Potter’s businesses in India, followed by the singing of a hymn. There were a couple more speeches and songs, before Potter himself rose to speak.

At the front of the hall, he paused for a moment and ran his hand through his hair. It was already starting to revert to its usual mess.

“I… thank you all for coming today. Daddy would be… would have been so very touched at all of you turning out and… it really means a lot to me too.”

Potter glanced across at Black, seated at the piano, then his eyes scanned the room, falling briefly on Lily. He gave a half-smile before looking away.

“I don’t have a speech or notes, or anything… I think that everyone who has spoken… You have said so much about Daddy – I even learned a few things I didn’t know. So I don’t think that there is much more I can add.”

He gave a little shrug and ran his hand through his hair again. In the process, he knocked his glasses so that they sat slightly crooked on his face. He didn’t appear to notice. Lily thought he looked very young, like a boy dressed up for a special occasion but just itching to run outside and climb a tree. She found it endearing.

“But I did want to say… well… I suppose, when I was growing up, I didn’t really know what I had. Looking at things now, I grew up surrounded by wealth and priviledge, and… so much love and care as well, but I didn’t realise it. Maybe we all grow up like that… thinking that what we have is the same as everyone else and just not knowing. But I realise… looking back… Daddy worked hard to show me that not everyone had what we had, and also to impress upon me the responsibility that came with our position and suchlike.

“It took me rather a while to see that, but I’m very grateful that he made that effort and that I did, eventually, see what he was trying to tell me.

“I really hoped… well, that when this war ended…”

Potter ran his hand through his hair again, and looked across and Black.

“I hoped to go back to India and see… and…”

Potter’s voice choked, and he looked across at Black again. Black rose from the piano and walked across to him. They exchanged a few quiet words and Black put his hand on Potter’s shoulder for a moment, before returning to the piano.

“Sorry, awfully hard thing to do, what. Have so much I could say but not sure I can get the words out. Never mind… yes… I know that, when I was younger, I never appreciated what I had. But I’m very glad that, as I grew up, I did come to understand what a wonderful father I had.”

He gave a rather wan smile and Lily squashed the feeling that she wanted to hug him.

“One thing I do want to say… It’s a measure of the kind of man Daddy was… He saw the changes that must come to India. His estate… over the last few years, he has been handing his business… he has been breaking it up and handing it over to some of his more trusted workers, rather than keeping it so that one family has far more than they could ever need. That will continue. Mummy and I… we will continue that. We… we are both immensely proud of the courage it must have… must have taken for… Daddy to start that process.”

Potter’s voice began to choke again, and he paused, swallowing and looking across at Black again. Black didn’t move, but gave him a smile and nod.

“So… ah, I think that is all I wanted to say. Best if I don’t say any more, I think.”

He turned and walked across to Black, putting his hand on Black’s shoulder and saying something quietly, before returning to his seat. McGonagall immediately put an arm around his back and Lupin placed a hand on his shoulder as Potter dropped his head forwards. Lily was pretty sure that he was crying.

Black stood up from the piano, and Andromeda walked across to join him. After a few words, she sat down at the piano while Black, clutching a music folder, walked across to the middle of the stage. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

“I… I say, Prongs talked me into this. Told me his father would have appreciated it, so I couldn’t say no. Ah… frightfully nervous, sorry.”

There were a few murmurs in the hall, and Lily supposed that it wasn’t what people expected from him. They would have been used to the arrogant, brash version of Black, not the version that Lily had heard about from Lupin. She had seen glimpses of that man since his return to Bletchley, but she was surprised that he showed it so openly at Fleamont Potter’s memorial service.

“I… ah, I have fond memories of Mr Potter attempting to convince Prongs and me that Shakespeare was simply marvellous stuff, when we were both far more interested in playing cricket and polo and really didn’t see the point in that kind of thing. He was very patient and kind with us, even when Prongs didn’t have very satisfactory reports from school, wasn’t he?”

He looked down at Potter, who lifted his head briefly to nod at Black. 

“He was also…”

Black paused and took a slow breath, this time not looking at Potter.

“He was also jolly kind to me at a rather… difficult time. And he always encouraged my music, so I thought he’d have appreciated this.”

He looked down and opened the music folder, shuffling pages for a long moment before looking at Andromeda. She began to play, slow chords, hymn-like and a little sad but somehow still hopeful. And then Black began to sing, and Lily felt the hairs all stand up on her arms.

_“Fear no more the heat o’ the sun  
Nor the furious winter’s rages;  
Thou thy worldly task hast done,  
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:  
Golden lads and girls all must,  
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.”_

Lily felt herself leaning forwards, drawn in to the spaces between the notes, which felt cavernous, infinite, as if there was no time or space but in that song. Then she felt Dorcas put a hand on her arm and squeeze tight, and she understood that she wasn’t the only one to feel that way. Lily glanced around and saw a tear running down Marlene’s cheek. Potter, now, had his head on McGonagall’s shoulder and his shoulders were shaking.

Then the slow chords faded, and with them, it seemed that everyone on the hall held their breath..

“ _No exorciser harm thee!  
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!  
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!  
Nothing ill come near thee!  
Quiet consummation have;  
And renownèd be thy grave!_”

As the final notes hung in the air, there was silence, until Black abruptly shut his folder and moved away. Instead of returning to the piano, he walked to where Potter was seated. McGonagall moved aside and Black took her place, his arms around Potter as he now, rather obviously, cried on his friend’s shoulder. Lily felt embarrassed for him – she didn’t think that she had ever seen a man cry, especially not in front of so many people, certainly not while being embraced by a friend with a reputation such as Black’s. But then she thought about how unconcerned Potter was with social convention, and she wondered if it would be better if all men were allowed to express such emotions as a matter of course.

Following Black’s song, General Dumbledore spoke again, reading a poem of Kipling’s – _If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs_ – before he asked if Black was inclined to return to the piano. Black turned to Potter, who was looking calmer, before he returned to the piano and immediately began playing ‘ _We’ll meet again’_.

Everyone in the hall stood and sang together, the mood lifting. It was a wise choice of song to end a memorial service, Lily thought, something to give people the feeling of having celebrated a life rather than mourned a death. But Lily did feel a little mournful. Potter had told her on a number of occasions that he would love for her to meet his father, and she felt oddly sad that she never would.

As the crowd dispersed, nearly everyone stopping to shake Potter’s hand, Lily hung back. She said goodbye to Mary, Marlene and Dorcas, and waited for a chance to speak to Potter. When Potter was finally standing largely alone, with just Black, Lupin and McGonagall, Lily walked up to him.

“Mr Potter?”

He turned, and his red-rimmed eyes brightened.

“Oh, Miss Evans. It was so kind of you to come.”

“Oh, no, I was glad to.”

She smiled, a little awkwardly, and McGonagall chose that moment to farewell Potter and walk briskly down the road. Black and Lupin began to walk together and Lily fell into step beside Potter, who followed at their their painfully slow place.

“It was interesting… today… hearing about your father. He sounds like he was a remarkable man.”

“Oh, yes, I… yes, he was.”

“You said to me, once or twice… you said you thought that I would like him if I met him. I think, from all that I heard, I think I probably would have liked him. I do feel a little sorry that I’ll never get to meet him.”

Potter turned to her and gave a small smile.

“Yes, I really do think he would have liked you. He liked women who were forthright and opinionated, you know. Had no patience with simpering and eyelash fluttering.”

“Oh.”

“He had a lot of that when he was younger. A most eligible bachelor, what. Mostly his sizable fortune, of course. He hated it. Didn’t get married until he was nearly fifty.”

Lily was silent, unsure of what to say. Potter was unusually pensive, although that wasn’t surprising in the circumstances.

“Never understood what he meant about that until I came here. Hasn’t been fun at times. Might not be so much of a problem in future though. Minnie might not have to worry so much.”

“I’m not sure I follow you, Mr Potter.”

He stopped and turned to look at her.

“Daddy’s will… he’s left most of his fortune to the staff of his factories and other businesses. Not like Mummy and I will be destitute of course, but not filthy rich any more. Don’t think quite so many debs will be keen to marry a boy who’s a rather too brown when he doesn’t have an enormous fortune.”

He looked rather pleased about it, Lily thought.

“Oh, I see.”

“Not that I expect such a thing would change your opinion, Miss Evans. Never struck me as the avaricious type. Think you’re a bit like Mr Lupin in that regard. Awfully scrupulous about not accepting anything he hasn’t earned. Only let Padfoot get him that suit when I told him my father wouldn’t approve of him turning up in his awful old rags. Don’t think he believed me, but he gave in then.”

Lily smiled at the thought of Black and Potter haranguing Lupin until he accepted the new clothes.

“So, Miss Evans… I… I might be wrong, but I’ve noticed lately, you don’t seem quite so annoyed at me. Or perhaps annoyed at me a bit less often, what.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve had your mind on other things. You were very busy organising the memorial service.”

Lily felt a knot in her stomach, aware that she wasn’t being entirely honest, and that went against her nature.

“Oh, I’ll always have time for you, Miss Evans. If you ever feel I’m not putting enough effort into annoying you, or you haven’t heard quite enough stories about polo, please inform me of it forthwith, and I will rectify the situation directly.”

Lily felt a laugh bubble up inside her, and she turned away as she tried to keep her face from showing it. Black and Lupin were still walking ahead at their slow pace. Lupin was clearly getting tired, his crutches dragging a little each time he swung them forward. Lily swallowed down the butterflies that were steadily climbing up into her mouth, as well as the scruples that told her that young ladies should not be too forward.

“Actually, Mr Potter, now you mention it…”

He turned back to her and stopped walking.

“Yes, Miss Evans?”

“I have noticed lately… I do seem to have been feeling a lack of irritation. And, well, I haven’t heard much about polo either. I do think you may have been a little remiss. I wouldn’t object if you were to rectify that situation, perhaps tomorrow night at the pictures?”

“Oh…”

Potter’s eyes widened in surprise, before his face broke into the brightest smile Lily thought she had ever seen. He opened his mouth and then stopped, not saying anything, not closing it. Just ahead of them, Black and Lupin stopped walking and turned back to watch them. Lily immediately felt her face turn scarlet.

“Oh, I say, jolly good show, Miss Evans. You’ve left Prongs speechless. That’s quite the achievement.”

Lupin let one crutch clatter to the ground as he clapped his hand over his mouth, clearly trying to stop himself laughing. Black was laughing too, but she didn’t get the feeling he was laughing at her. She turned back to Potter, who was still gaping at her, and smiled.

“So, Mr Potter, what do you say?”

After a moment more staring at her in shock, Potter closed his mouth and nodded vigorously, so vigorously, in fact, that his glasses began to slide off and were only saved by him grabbing them as they fell.

“Good Lord, Mr Potter, you really are a disaster, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” he said as he put his glasses back on and ran his hand through his hair, which had fully reverted to its natural chaos. “I’m quite hopeless. Whatever would I do if I didn’t have you to remind me of it?”

He offered Lily his arm then, and she took it. As she watched Black retrieve Lupin’s fallen crutch, she wondered, for a moment, whether she would regret what she had just done. She realised that if things went well with Potter, as she rather suspected they would, then at some point, she would need to leave the familiarity of England and everyone she knew for India, a country which her parents had talked of as a place of grinding poverty and filth, where people died horrible deaths from tropical fevers and starvation. But Lily wasn’t one for regret, and the India that Potter had described was vivid and vibrant, filled with colour and energy. It would probably be a difficult life, but she didn’t fear difficulty. What Lily feared, she realised, was returning to the world she had lived in before Bletchley, where women knew their place and men were judged be status and wealth, or who they fell in love with, and everyone was constrained by pointless rules that said men must not show emotion, nor women intelligence. Rules that Potter had no truck with. No, Lily thought, she wouldn’t regret this, not one bit.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new beginning.

November 1945

“So,” Sirius said, sidling closer to Remus as he leaned on the rail, “what do you think?”

Remus was silent for a moment, awed by the size of the buildings that seemed to rise directly from the water. The harbour was flat, the same shade of grey as the sky, and a fine drizzle fell on them. The weather, though, was the only thing that felt familiar.

“It’s… it’s lovely. Like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“It is, isn’t it, my love. I don’t think I’ve got the words to describe it.”

Remus nodded, shuffling away from Sirius slightly.

“People will see us,” he said, under his breath.

“Don’t be silly, old thing. They’re all too busy watching as well.”

He moved along again, so that their shoulders and arms were touching, and he held his hand on Remus’s for a moment before moving it back to the rail.

“Besides,” he continued, “everyone is completely convinced that you and your lovely wife are blissfully in love. They haven’t a clue.”

“I suppose. I just don’t want to… I don’t want to take any chances.”

“After today, my love, we will never see these people again. We will go on our merry way, and they will go on their merry ways, so what does it matter?”

“It’s still illegal here,” Remus said. “They might tell the authorities.”

“I really don’t think… I’m sure they have better things to be worrying about than us, old thing. But I promise I won’t make anything too obvious, alright?”

“Alright. Speaking of my lovely wife, have you seen Dorcas?”

“Cornered by Mrs Trelawney, last I saw. Telling her what a saint she was, marrying you. Completely oblivious to Dorcas sitting there rolling her eyes.”

“Oh, dear. Do you think we should rescue her?”

“Rescue who?” Dorcas said, coming up behind them and leaning on the rail next to Remus.

“Oh, we were wondering if we needed to rescue you from Mrs Trelawney’s praises, but clearly not.”

“She really is a frightful bore, but at there’s nothing she can actually _do_. It would be another matter if I was unmarried. She’d be pressing all sorts of dreadful men on me and never let me hear then end of it.”

“Oh.”

“Honestly, my dear, you have no idea what a relief this has been. I wish I’d thought of it sooner.”

Dorcas’s tone was light, but Remus knew that it covered a well of deep frustration. She’d held her own as a cryptanalyst at Bletchley, proving herself as capable as any man, but when the war ended she couldn’t find employment. There were men needing jobs, she was told. She should get married and start a family instead. She would find a man if she paid more attention to her appearance, they said. And, of course, it wasn’t worth employing single women, as they’d only work for a few months before marrying and having children.

It had been Sirius who suggested that she try leaving Britain, and come with them to New York. It had taken her only a few minutes to agree. And then she’d asked Remus to marry her.

“Alright, I’m glad to be of assistance, then.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Dorcas patted him on the hand and he felt a knot in his chest at the thought that she could touch him in public but Sirius couldn’t. He hated the pretence. It had to be that way, of course, and the marriage did solve a number of problems. A single woman and two single men travelling together would have drawn far too much attention and condemnation, while a married couple and their friend were unremarkable. They could get a house together and nobody need know that it was Remus and Sirius that shared a bedroom, and not Remus and his legal wife. Dorcas was a dear friend to him and to Sirius, and living with her would never be a hardship. But at Bletchley, they’d spent most of their time in the company of close friends, and never had to hide anything. He’d miss the open intimacy they’d had there. Nothing untoward, of course, but if they’d been arm in arm at one of James’s parties, nobody cared.

“You’ll be glad to have your feet on solid ground, won’t you, old thing?”

Remus sighed. He’d hated the week on board the ocean liner, in close quarters with hundreds of people, pretending he was in love with his friend and friends with his love of his life. It wasn’t helped that he’d been miserably sea sick for most of the voyage.

“Oh, yes, very much so. I think I might kiss the earth.”

“Sounds frightfully unhygenic, my dear. Think of all those dirty shoes.”

Sirius tossed his head back and laughed. He looked so relaxed and free, and it made Remus’s heart warm. He might be terrified of what it would mean to cross the Atlantic to an unknown city and unknown people who might not be as understanding as their friends, but it was something that Sirius wanted to do – to escape from the society where his name set him apart, where everyone knew of his father and uncle, to escape the expectations and affectations of his class and just be himself. Seeing how happy Sirius looked, Remus knew that they were doing the right thing.

Besides, Remus thought, the little world they’d inhabited in Britain was gone. Bletchley was no longer needed when the war ended, and the people had scattered. James and Lily, now married, had headed to India to join James’s mother. They had said that they might not remain too long, as India was changing and independence coming. They were planning to bring James’s mother and come to New York in a year or two. But for now, they were very far away.

Tonks and Andromeda, also now married and with a little girl, were already in the United States. They’d left Britain as soon as the war in Europe ended and Tonks was working for a car manufacturer. However they weren’t in New York and Remus didn’t know how often they’d be able to see them. 

“We should probably be getting ready with our things, Sirius. You know I’ll take forever to disembark. We should get ready.”

“Of course, my love,” Sirius said, giving him one of the smiles that still made Remus’s heart race.

“Yes, do come along, you two. There will be plenty of time to gaze into each others’ eyes later.”

She walked ahead, stopping outside the cabin which nominally belonged to her and Remus, although he’d never actually slept in there. Sirius and he had shared the cabin next door.

“See you in a few minutes,” she said, entering the cabin and closing the door.

An hour later, they were standing in the terminal with their luggage stacked beside them, looking out for Sirius’s uncle. Sirius hadn’t seen him since he was a child, but seemed quite confident that he would recognise him.

“We, if it isn’t little Sirius, all grown up.”

Remus turned to see a man with greying, swept back hair coming towards them. His clothing was extravagant compared to what Remus was used to in Britain – the lapels and shoulders of his jacket were wide and he wore a colourful waistcoat and tie. He looked very American in his style, but his voice was perfectly British.

“Uncle Al,” Sirius said, walking forward and offering his hand. His uncle ignored the hand and pulled Sirius into a hug.

When he’d released Sirius, he turned to Remus.

“So, you must be Remus. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Remus gave an awkward smile and, passing Sirius his crutch, shook his hand, relieved that he wasn’t to be subjected to a hug. The man then turned to Dorcas.

“And you must be the delightful Mrs Lupin, I presume?”

He took her hand and kissed it. Dorcas rolled her eyes and pulled her hand back, looking rather like she wanted to wipe it on something.

“It’s Doctor Lupin, actually,” she said. “And I can assure you that I’m rarely described as delightful.”

Sirius’s uncle looked nonplussed for a moment, before breaking into a smile.

“Ah, yes, Sirius did warn me that you were rather unconventional. He didn’t mention you were a doctor though.”

“Doctor of classics. Estruscan language to be precise. Was on hold through most of the war but I did manage to submit my thesis earlier this year.”

“Oh, jolly good show. You must be very proud.”

This remark seemed to be addressed as much to Remus as Dorcas, and he squirmed inside at the presence.

“Oh, yes, very much so,” Remus said.

He put his arm around her shoulders for a moment in a slightly uncomfortable hug, before retriving his crutch from Sirius.

Sirius’s uncle – _call me Al, please, we’re not formal here_ , he had insisted – led them to a waiting taxi, and then they were in the chaos of traffic that seemed to be everywhere in New York.

“Alright, love?” Sirius whispered in Remus’s ear.

Remus nodded.

“Glad to be here. But the ground seems to be moving still.”

“Yes, I’m finding that as well. But it’s happened other times I’ve been on ships, when there’s been rough weather. It will go in a day or two.”

Sirius gave his hand a squeeze, before moving it back to his own knee. Remus held his breath, but Sirius’s uncle didn’t seem to have noticed.

Sirius returned to looking out the window, wonder on his face. Remus couldn’t blame him – he’d never seen anything like the streets of New York. London had seemed big and busy, but New York seemed to buzz with energy. The people looked different from London too, far more diverse, and lacking the haunted, hungry look that so many Londoners wore after years of bombing and rationing. 

Remus was dreading the number of stairs that he’d have to face in a city with so many tall buildings, and his heart sank when the taxi finally drew to a stop. The building was huge, and Remus hoped desperately that they would be on one of the lower floors. They walked in through the front doors – a uniformed doorman greeting Al – then came to a stop beside an odd metal grille. Al pressed a button, and Remus felt his mouth open in amazement. He’d never seen an elevator in a residential building.

“I was worried about the stairs when I saw your building,” he said. “But this is amazing.”

Al smiled at him.

“You’ll be fine here. The apartment is all on one level. When you finally get your own, you’ll just have to find one with an elevator.”

They rode up in the elevator for what seemed like a very long time, walked along a corridor and then they were in Al’s apartment. It was bright and open with huge windows – nothing like the miserable lodgings that Remus had had in London, or even the house in Bletchley. While he could see many other apartments through the windows, in a gap between buildings he could see a green park.

Sirius nudged him with his elbow.

“Jolly nice, isn’t it, old thing?”

Remus nodded, lost for words. They followed Al down a corridor, stopping outside a large, bright room with a double bed.

“You’re here,” Al said to Sirius, motioning him in, before he followed, carrying Remus’s suitcase.

Remus stood outside, feeling his stomach drop. Al had just walked into Sirius’s room with Remus’s case. Did that mean he _knew_? Did he know about them? He felt his thoughts begin to race as panic gripped his chest like a hand around a heart.

Al put the case down and turned to Remus.

“Oh dear,” he said, a frown on his face “was I not supposed to know?”

Sirius turned and looked at Remus. He put his case down and rushed across to Remus.

“It’s alright, old thing. Honestly. Uncle Al… he knows about me, it’s one of the reasons he said I should come. The people he works with in the theatre, they are much more tolerant.”

Remus felt heat rise to his cheeks.

“Oh… oh, I… I suppose… I just didn’t expect…”

“It’s alright, old chap. If I hadn’t worked it out from Sirius’s letters already, Andromeda, Tonks and their little girl stayed here when they passed through. They confirmed it for me.”

Al patted Remus on the shoulder.

“You really don’t need to worry here, old chap. Why do you think I left England?”

Remus glanced at Sirius, not sure for a moment that he’d understood correctly, but the shock on Sirius’s face confirmed it for him.

“I’ll just show Dorcas to her room, shall I?” Al said. “Give you two a moment?”

Remus turned to Dorcas, who looked amused rather than startled.

“If you could see your face, my dear,” she said, giving him a smile.

As Dorcas followed Al to the next room Remus sat down rather heavily onto the bed. Sirius sat beside him and put his arm around Remus’s shoulder.

“Gosh, I really had no idea. He never said anything to me. Well, I was ten when I last saw him, but… not even in his letters. He knew about me – someone in the family wrote to him after my disgrace at school, no doubt delighting in my situation. He wrote me a frightfully kind letter, after that… I see why now… gosh…”

“You’re surprised, then, are you?” Remus said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sirius smiled back and gave Remus a quick kiss on the forehead.

“I’m sorry he embarrassed you. You don’t mind that he knows about us though, do you?

“Oh, no, it’s alright. I just got a shock. I’m glad he knows, actually. I was worried about having to pretend. I hated it on the boat.”

“You didn’t think it was fun? I thought it rather droll, how they were so taken in by the idea of you and Dorcas, and had no idea of the truth.”

Remus shook his head.

“It made me feel as if we were doing something shameful.”

“Oh, my love, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.”

“It’s alright. I didn’t want to bother you or Dorcas.”

“You’re never a bother, my love.”

He lifted up his hand to stroke Remus’s cheek, then moved in to give him a gentle kiss, before pulling him into a hug.

“You don’t regret marrying Dorcas, do you?”

“No… I don’t think so. On the boat… I wasn’t sure… it felt wrong that she could touch me, take my arm or whatever, and you couldn’t. But I can see how it makes things easier for her, and she’s… she’s such a good friend. I’m never going to be bothered by having her around.”

“No, me neither. And here, I don’t think we’ll have to pretend too much. Not with Uncle Al. It sounds like we won’t have to pretend with his friends either. You’ll just have to put on a show for her colleagues at the university.”

“Yes. I suppose I can manage that. I… I’ll be alright with that. Because you’re here, and with you, everything’s alright. Better than alright. Better than I could have ever dreamed, you know.”

Sirius smiled at him, that same smile that he’d smiled at Remus on that early morning in the Chiltern Hills.

“You’re frightfully soppy, you know, my Moon.”

“Oh, I could be a lot worse. I could tell you how beautiful you are, that I thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen the very first time I say you, how your smile is brighter than the brightest star, and as warm as the morning sun. I could tell you–“

Remus’s words were cut off by Sirius touching a finger to his lips.

“Enough, old thing, I’ll get a swelled head.”

He looked at Remus for a few moments, his finger not moving, before drawing it away and replacing it with his lips. He kissed Remus gently at first, then with increasing fervour as Remus lifted his hands to tangled his fingers in Sirius’s hair. Remus felt himself falling, as he did every time, just a little bit more in love with the man who had walked into his life and turned everything upside down in the best possible way.

“I love you, you know, Sirius,” he said when they finally drew apart.

“Oh, I do know. And I love you too, Remus, so very much.”

“Alright, you two. There’ll be time enough for that later. How about you come and have some tea and tell me all about what England’s like thesedays.”

They jumped apart and Remus turned to see Sirius’s uncle leaning on the doorframe with an amused expression on his face. Dorcas stood beside him, smirking. Remus felt his face turn scarlet with embarrassment.

“You forgot to shut the door,” she said. “Really, if you are going to get embarrassed about being caught kissing, you really ought to close it.”

Sirius gave an awkward laugh and stood up, offering Remus his hand.

“Awfully sorry about that, Uncle,” Sirius said.

“I’m not,” Remus said, lifting his chin slightly.

Dorcas laughed and patted him on the arm. Sirius’s uncle laughed too, and then Sirius looked at Remus with such pride in his eyes. He knew how far Remus had come, to be able to utter those two words. Remus knew for certain then that things were going to be just fine. He wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t ashamed. He couldn’t help who he fell in love with, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are, at the end. I hope you enjoyed this little bit of happiness to finish off with. They all deserved so much better than they got in canon (even Uncle Alphard). Thank you to everyone who has read this and especially those who have taken the time to comment. I really do appreciate it.

**Author's Note:**

> The piece Sirius sings is "Fear no more the heat o' the sun" by Gerald Finzi.
> 
> I've created a spotify playlist for the music I've referenced in this fic, along with some others that Remus and Sirius may have listened to. If you are interested, you can find it under the name "Enigma Variations" by atropa-nz.


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